DRAKE 

AN   ENGLISH    EPIC 
BOOKS  I -XII 


DRAKE 

AN  ENGLISH  EPIC 

BOOKS  i-xil 


BY 

ALFRED   NOYES 


NEW   YORK 

FREDERICK   A.    STOKES   COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  1909,  By 
FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,  1906,  By 
ALFRED  NOYES 


All  Rights  Rtitrved 


September, 


To 
RUDOLPH    CHAMBERS  LEHMANN 


190820 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

SIR  FRANCIS  DRAKE 

From  an  Original  Painting     .      .      .     Frontispiece 

FACIKG    PAGE 

QUEEN  ELIZABETH,  1585 

From  a  Painting  by  Nicholas  Hilliard     .  16 

SIR  FRANCIS  WALSINGHAM 

From  an  Original   Painting 22 

WILLIAM  CECIL,  LORD  BURLEIGH 

From  an  Original  Painting  by  Mark  Gerard     114 

DRAKE'S  SHIP,  The  Golden  Hynde 

Reproduced     from     Harper 's    Magazine     by 

Permission 162 

QUEEN  ELIZABETH  KNIGHTING  DRAKE  ON 
BOARD  The  Golden  Hynde  AT  DEPTFORD, 
APRIL  4,  1581 

Reproduced     from     Harper's    Magazine    by 

Permission .      .     214 

PHILIP  II,  KING  OF  SPAIN 

From   the   Painting  by   Titian      ....     234 

THE  DEFEAT  OF  THE  SPANISH  ARMADA 

Reproduced     by     Permission     of     the    Lenox 

Library,  New  York .318 


. 

/ 


IY£RS 


U  h       v 

\  or 

X  C/j  ,rnF*\b 


SIR  FRANCIS  DRAKE 

From  an  Original  Painting 


DRAKE 


PROLOGUE    TO    AMERICAN 
EDITION 


ir~*NGL4ND,  my  mother, 
lrt        Lift  to  my  western  sweetheart 

One  full  cup  of  English  mead, 
breathing  of  the  may! 
Pledge  the  may-flower  in  her  face  that  you 

and  ah,  none  other, 
Sent  her  from  the  mother-land 
Across  the  dashing  spray. 

II 
Hers  and  yours  the  story: 

Think  of  it,  oh,  think  of  it — 
That  immortal  dream  when  El  Dorado  flushed 

the  skies! 
Fill  the  beaker  full  and  drink  to  Drake9 s 

undying  glory, 

Yours  and  hers  (Oh,  drink  of  it!) 
The  dream  that  never  dies. 
i 


DRAKE 


hers  the  free-men 
Who  scanned  the  stars  and  westward  sung 
When  a  king  commanded  and  the  Atlantic 

thundered  "Nay!" 
Hers  as  yours  the  pride  is,  for  Drake  our  first 

of  seamen 

First  upon  his  bow-sprit  hung 
That  bunch  of  English  may. 

IV 

Pledge  her  deep,  my  mother; 

Through  her  'veins  thy  life-stream  runs! 
Spare  a  thought,  too,  sweetheart,  for  my  mother 

o'er  the  sea! 
Younger  eyes  are  yours;  but  ah,  those  old  eyes 

and  none  other 

Once  bedewed  the  may-flower;  once, 
As  yours,  were  clear  and  free. 

V 

Once!    Nay,  now  as  ever 
Befits  within  her  ancient  heart 
2 


PROLOGUE 


All  the  faith  that  took  you  forth  to  seek  your 

heaven  alone: 
Shadows  come  and  go;  but  let  no  shade  of  doubt 

dissever, 

Cloak,  or  cloud,  or  keep  apart 
Two  souls  whose  prayer  is  one. 

VI 

Sweetheart,  ah,  be  tender — 

Tender  with  her  prayer  to-night! 
Such  a  goal  might  yet  be  ours! — the  battle- flags 

be  furled, 
All  the  wars  of  earth  be  crushed,  if  only  now 

your  slender 

Hand  should  grasp  her  gnarled  old  hand 
And  federate  the  world. 

Vll 

Foolish  it  may  seem,  sweet! 

Still  the  battle  thunder  lours: 
Darker  loom  the  Dreadnoughts  as  old  Europe  goes 

her  way! 

Yet  your  hand,  your  hand,  has  power  to  crush 
that  evil  dream,  sweet; 
3 


DRAKE 


You,  with  younger  eyes  than  ours 
And  brows  of  English  may. 

Fill 

If  a  singer  cherishes 

Idle  dreams  or  idle  words, 
You  shall  judge — and  you'll  forgive:  for,  far 

away  or  nigh, 
Still  abides  that  Piston  without  which  a  people 

perishes: 

Love  will  strike  the  atoning  chords! 
Hark — there  comes  a  cry! 

IX 

Over  all  this  earth,  sweet. 

The  poor  and  weak  look  up  to  you — 
Lift  their  burdened  shoulders,  stretch  their  fettered 

hands  in  prayer: 

You,  with  gentle  hands,  can  bring  the 
world-wide  dream  to  birth,  sweet, 
While  I  lift  this  cup  to  you 
And  wonder — will  she  care? 
4 


PROLOGUE 


x 

Kindle,  eyes,  and  beat,  heart! 

Hold  the  brimming  beaker  up! 
All  the  may  is  burgeoning  from  East  to  golden 

West! 
England,  my  mother,  greet  America,  my 

sweetheart: 

— Ah,  but  ere  I  drained  the  cup 
I  found  her  on  your  breast. 


EXORDIUM 

WHEN  on  the  highest  ridge  of  that 
strange  land, 
Under  the  cloudless,  blinding  tropic 

blue, 

Drake  and  his  band  of  swarthy  seamen  stood 
With  dazed  eyes  gazing  round  them,  emerald  fans 
Of  palm  that  fell  like  fountains  over  cliffs 
Of  gorgeous  red  anana  bloom  obscured 
Their  sight  on  every  side.     Illustrious  gleams 
Of  rose  and  green  and  gold  streamed  from  the 

plumes 
That  flashed  like  living  rainbows  through  the 

glades. 

Piratic  glints  of  musketoon  and  sword, 
The  scarlet  scarves  around  the  tawny  throats, 
The  bright  brass  ear-rings  in  the  sun-black  ears, 
And  the  calm  faces  of  the  negro  guides 
Opposed  their  barbarous  bravery  to  the  noon: 
Yet  a  deep  silence  dreadfully  besieged 

6 


EXORDIUM 


Even  those  mighty  hearts  upon  the  verge 

Of  the  undiscovered  world.     Behind  them  lay 

The  old  earth  they  knew.     In  front  they  could 

not  see 

What  lay  beyond  the  ridge.     Only  they  heard 
Cries  of  the  painted  birds  troubling  the  heat 
And   shivering  through  the  woods;  till   Francis 

Drake 

Plunged  through  the  hush,  took  hold  upon  a  tree, 
The  tallest  near  them,  and  clomb  upward,  branch 
By  branch. 

And,  lo!  as  he  swung  clear  above 
The  steep-down  forest,  on  his  wondering  eyes 
Mile  upon  mile  of  rugged  shimmering  gold 
Burst  the  unknown  immeasurable  sea. 
Then  he  descended;  and  with  a  new  voice 
Vowed  that,  God  helping,  he  would  one  day  plough 
Those  virgin  waters  with  an  English  keel. 

So  here  before  the  unattempted  task, 
Above  the  Golden  Ocean  of  my  dream 
I  clomb  and  saw  in  splendid  pageant  pass 
The  wild  adventures  and  heroic  deeds 

7 


DRAKE 


Of  England's  epic  age — a  vision  lit 

With  mighty  prophecies,  fraught  with  a  doom 

Worthy  the  great  Homeric  roll  of  song, 

Yet  all  unsung  and  unrecorded  quite 

By  those  who  might  have  touched  with  Raphael's 

hand 

The  large  imperial  legend  of  our  race, 
Ere  it  brought  forth  the  braggarts  of  an  hour, 
Self-worshippers  who  love  their  imaged  strength, 
And  as  a  symbol  for  their  own  proud  selves 
Misuse  the  sacred  name  of  this  dear  land, 
While  England  to  the  Empire  of  her  soul, 
Like  some  great  Prophet  passes  through  the  crowd 
That  cannot  understand ;  for  he  must  climb 
Up  to  that  sovran  thunder-smitten  peak 
Where  he  shall  grave  and  trench  on  adamant 
The  Law  that  God  shall  utter  by  the  still 
Small  voice,  not  by  the  whirlwind  or  the  fire. 
There,  labouring  for  the  Highest  in  himself, 
He  shall  achieve  the  good  of  all  mankind; 
And  from  that  lonely  Sinai  shall  return 
Triumphant  o'er  the  little  gods  of  gold 
That  rule  their  little  hour  upon  the  plain. 

8 


EXORDIUM 


Oh,  thou  blind  master  of  these  opened  eyes, 
Be  near  me,  therefore,  now;  for  not  in  pride 
I  lift  lame  hands  to  this  imperious  theme; 
But  yearning  to  a  power  above  mine  own 
Even  as  a  man  might  lift  his  hands  in  prayer. 
Or  as  a  child,  perchance,  in  those  dark  days 
When  London  lay  beleaguered  and  the  ax 
Flashed  out  for  Rome  in  England;  and  the  blood 
Of  martyrs  made  a  purple  path  for  Spain 
Up  to  the  throne  of  Mary;  as  a  child 
Gathering  with  friends  upon  a  winter's  morn 
For  some  mock  fight  between  the  hateful  prince 
Philip  and  Thomas  Wyatt,  all  at  once 
Might  see  in  gorgeous  ruffs  embastioned 
Popinjay  plumes  and  slouching  hats  of  Spain, 
Gay  shimmering  silks  and  rich  encrusted  gems, 
Gold  collars,  rare  brocades,  and  sleek  trunk-hose 
The  Ambassador  and  peacock  courtiers  come 
Strutting  along  the  white  snow-strangled  street, 
A  walking  plot  of  scarlet  Spanish  flowers, 
And  with  one  cry  a  hundred  boyish  hands 
Put  them  to  flight  with  snowballs,  while  the  wind 
All  round  their  Spanish  ears  hissed  like  a  flight 

9 


DRAKE 


Of  white-winged  geese :  so  may  I  wage  perchance 

A  mimic  war  with  all  my  heart  in  it, 

Munitioned  with  mere  perishable  snow, 

Which  mightier  hands  one  day  will  urge  with  steel. 

Yet  may  they  still  remember  me  as  I 

Remember,  with  one  little  laugh  of  love, 

That  child's  game,  this  were  wealth  enough  for  me. 

Mother  and  love,  fair  England,  hear  my  prayer; 
Help  me  that  I  may  tell  the  enduring  tale 
Of  that  great  seaman,  good  at  need,  who  first 
Sailed  round  this  globe  and  made  one  little  isle, 
One  little  isle  against  that  huge  Empire 
Of  Spain,  whose  might  was  paramount  on  earth, 
Overtopping  Babylon,  Nineveh,  Greece  and  Rome, 
Carthage  and  all  huge  Empires  of  the  past, 
He  made  this  little  isle,  against  the  world, 
Queen  of  the  earth  and  sea.     Nor  this  alone 
The  theme;  for,  in  a  mightier  strife  engaged 
Even  than  he  knew,  he  fought  for  the  new  faiths, 
Championing  our  manhood  as  it  rose 
And  cast  its  feudal  chains  before  the  seat 
Of  kings; — nay,  in  a  mightier  battle  yet 

10 


EXORDIUM 


He  fought  for  the  soul's  freedom,  fought  the  fight 
Which,  though  it  still  rings  in  our  wondering  ears, 
Was  won  then  and  for  ever — that  great  war, 
That  last  Crusade  of  Christ  against  His  priests, 
Wherein  Rome  fell  behind  a  thunderous  roar 
Of  ocean  triumph  over  burning  ships 
And  shattered  fleets,  while  England,  England  rose, 
Her  white  cliffs  laughing  out  across  the  waves, 
Victorious  over  all  her  enemies. 
And  while  he  won  the  world  for  her  domain, 
Her  loins  brought  forth,  her  fostering  bosom  fed 
Souls  that  have  swept  the  spiritual  seas 
From  heaven  to  hell,  and  justified  her  crown. 
For  round  the  throne  of  great  Elizabeth 
Verulam,  Burleigh,  Sidney,  Spenser,  More, 
Clustered  like  stars,  rare  Jonson  like  the  crown 
Of  Cassiopeia,  Marlowe  ruddy  as  Mars, 
And  over  all  those  mighty  hearts  arose 
The  soul  of  Shakespeare  brooding  far  and  wide 
Beyond  our  small  horizons,  like  a  light 
Thrown  from  a  vaster  sun  that  still  illumes 
Tracts  which  the  arc  of  our  increasing  day 
Must  still  leave  undiscovered,  unexplored. 

ii 


DRAKE 


Mother  and  love,  fair  England,  hear  my  prayer, 
As  thou  didst  touch  the  heart  and  light  the  flame 
Of  wonder  in  those  eyes  which  first  awoke 
To  beauty  and  the  sea's  adventurous  dream 
Three  hundred  years  ago,  three  hundred  years, 
And  five  long  decades,  in  the  leafy  lanes 
Of  Devon,  where  the  tallest  trees  that  bore 
The  raven's  matted  nest  had  yielded  up 
Their  booty,  while  the  perilous  branches  swayed 
Beneath  the  boyish  privateer,  the  king 
Of  many  young  companions — Francis  Drake; 
So  hear  me  and  so  help,  for  more  than  his 
My  need  is,  even  than  when  he  first  set  sail 
Upon  that  wild  adventure  with  three  ships 
And  three-score  men   from   grey  old  Plymouth 

Sound, 

Not  knowing  if  he  went  to  life  or  death, 
Nor  caring  greatly,  so  that  he  were  true 
To  his  own  sleepless  and  unfaltering  soul, 
Which  could  not  choose  but  hear  the  ringing  call 
Across  the  splendours  of  the  Spanish  Main 
From  ever  fading,  ever  new  horizons, 
And  shores  beyond  the  sunset  and  the  sea. 

12 


EXORDIUM 


Mother   and  sweetheart,   England;   from  whose 

breast, 

With  all  the  world  before  them,  they  went  forth, 
Thy  seamen,  o'er  the  wide  uncharted  waste, 
Wider  than  that  Ulysses  roamed  of  old, 
Even  as  the  wine-dark  Mediterranean 
Is  wider  than  some  tide-relinquished  pool 
Among  its  rocks,  yet  none  the  less  explored 
To  greater  ends  than  all  the  pride  of  Greece 
And  pomp  of  Rome  achieved;  if  my  poor  song 
Now  spread  too  wide  a  sail,  forgive  thy  son 
And  lover,  for  thy  love  was  ever  wont 
To  lift  men  up  in*  pride  above  themselves 
To  do  great  deeds  which  of  themselves  alone 
They  could  not;  thou  hast  led  the  unfaltering  feet 
Of  even  thy  meanest  heroes  down  to  death, 
Lifted  poor  knights  to  many  a  great  emprise, 
Taught  them  high  thoughts,  and  though  they  kept 

their  souls 

Lowly  as  little  children,  bidden  them  lift 
Eyes  unappalled  by  all  the  myriad  stars 
That  wheel  around  the  great  white  throne  of  God. 


BOOK    I 

NOW  through  the  great  doors  of  the 
Council-room 
Magnificently  streamed  in  rich  array 
The  peers  of  England,  regal  of  aspect 
And  grave.     Their  silence  waited  for  the  Queen: 
And  even  now  she  came ;  and  through  their  midst, 
Low  as  they  bowed,  she  passed  without  a  smile 
And  took  her  royal  seat.     A  bodeful  hush 
Of  huge  anticipation  gripped  all  hearts, 
Compressed  all  brows,  and  loaded  the  broad  noon 
With  gathering  thunder :  none  knew  what  the  hour 
Might  yet  bring  forth ;  but  the  dark  fire  of  war 
Smouldered  in  every  eye;  for  every  day 
The  Council  met  debating  how  to  join 
Honour  with  peace,  and  every  day  new  tales 
Of  English  wrongs  received  from  the  red  hands 
Of  that  gigantic  Empire,  insolent 
Spain,  spurred  fiercer  resentments  up  like  steeds 
Revolting,  on  the  curb,  foaming  for  battle, 

14 


BOOK    I 


In  all  men's  minds,  against  whatever  odds. 

On  one  side  of  the  throne  great  Walsingham, 

A  lion  of  England,  couchant,  watchful,  calm, 

Was  now  the  master  of  opinion :  all 

Drew    to    him.     Even    the    hunchback    Burleigh 

smiled 

With  half-ironic  admiration  now, 
As  in  the  presence  of  the  Queen  they  met 
Amid  the  sweeping  splendours  of  her  court, 
A  cynic  smile  that  seemed  to  say,  "  I,  too, 
Would  fain  regain  that  forthright  heart  of  fire; 
Yet  statesmanship  is  but  a  smoother  name 
For  the  superior  cunning  which  ensures 
Victory."     And    the    Queen,    too,    knowing   her 

strength 
And  weakness,  though  her  woman's  heart  leaped 

out 

To  courage,  yet  with  woman's  craft  preferred 
The  subtler  strength  of  Burleigh ;  for  she  knew 
Mary  of  Scotland  waited  for  that  war 
To  strike  her  in  the  side  for  Rome;  she  knew 
How  many  thousands  lurked  in  England  still 
Remembering  Rome  and  bloody  Mary's  reign. 

15 


DRAKE 

France  o'er  a  wall  of  bleeding  Huguenots 
Watched  for  an  hour  to  strike.     Against  all  these 
What  shield  could  England  raise — this  little  isle. 
Outmatched,  outnumbered,  perilously  near 
Utter  destruction? 

So  the  long  debate 
Proceeded. 

All  at  once  there  came  a  cry 
Along  the  streets  and  at  the  palace  gates 
And  at  the  great  doors  of  the  Council-room ! 
Then  through  the  pikes  and  halberds  a  voice  rose 
Imperative  for  entrance,  and  the  guards 
Made  way,  and  a  strange  whisper  surged  around, 
And  through  the  peers  of  England  thrilled  the 

blood 

Of  Agincourt  as  to  the  foot  of  the  throne 
Came  Leicester,  for  behind  him  as  he  came 
A  seaman  stumbled,  travel-stained  and  torn, 
Crying  for  justice,  and  gasped  out  his  tale. 
" The  Spaniards,"  he  moaned,  "  the  Inquisition! 
They  have  taken  all  my  comrades,  all  our  crew, 
And  flung  them  into  dungeons:  there  they  lie 
Waiting  for  England,  waiting  for  their  Queen! 

16 


QUEEN  ELIZABETH,  1585 

Front  a  Painting  by  Nicholas  Hilliard 


BOOK    I 


Will  you  not  free  them?     I  alone  am  left! 
All  London  is  afire  with  it,  for  this 
Was  one  of  your  chief  city  merchant's  ships — 
The  Pride  of  London,  one  of  Osborne's  ships ! 
But  there  is  none  to  help  them !     I  escaped 
With  shrieks  of  torment  ringing  in  these  ears, 
The  glare  of  torture-chambers  in  these  eyes 
That  see  no  faces  anywhere  but  blind, 
Blind  faces,  each  a  bruise  of  white  that  smiles 
In  idiot  agony,  washed  with  sweat  and  blood, 
The  face  of  some  strange  thing  that  once  was  man, 
And  now  can  only  turn  from  side  to  side 
Babbling  like  a  child,  with  mouth  agape, 
And  crying  for  help  where  there  is  none  to  hear 
Save  those  black  vizards  in  the  furnace-glow, 
Moving  like  devils  at  their  hellish  trade.    .    .    ." 
He    paused;    his    memory    sickened,    his    brain 

swooned 

Back  into  that  wild  glare  of  obscene  pain ! 
Once  more  to  his  ears  and  nostrils  horribly  crept 
The  hiss  and  smell  of  shrivelling  human  flesh ! 
His  dumb  stare  told  the  rest:  his  head  sank  down; 
He  bowed ;  he  fell ;  he  strove  in  agony 

17 


DRAKE 


With  what  all  hideous  words  must  leave  untold; 
While  Leicester  vouched  him,  "  This  man's  tale 

is  true !" 

But  like  a  gathering  storm  a  windy  moan 
Of  passion,  like  a  tiger's,  slowly  crept 
From  the  grey  lips  of  Walsingham.     "  My  Queen, 
Will  you  not  free  them?" 

Then  Elizabeth, 

Whose  name  is  one  for  ever  with  the  name 
Of  England,  rose;  and  in  her  face  the  gleam 
Of  justice  that  makes  anger  terrible 
Shone,   and   she   stretched  her  glittering   sceptre 

forth 
And  spoke,  with  distant  empires  in  her  eyes: 

"  My  lords,  this  is  the  last  cry  they  shall  wring 
From  English  lips  unheeded:  we  will  have 
Such  remedies  for  this  as  all  the  world 
Shall  tremble  at!" 

And,  on  that  night,  while  Drake 
Close  in  his  London  lodging  lay  concealed 
Until  he  knew  if  it  were  peace  or  war 
With  Spain  (for  he  had  struck  on  the  high  seas 

18 


BOOK    I 


At  Spain ;  and  well  he  knew  if  it  were  peace 
His  blood  would  be  made  witness  to  that  bond, 
And  he  must  die  a  pirate's  death  or  fly 
Westward  once  more) ,  there  all  alone,  he  pored 
By  a  struggling  rushlight  o'er  a  well-thumbed  chart 
Of  magic  islands  in  the  enchanted  seas, 
Dreaming,  as  boys  and  poets  only  dream 
With  those  that  see  God's  wonders  in  the  deep, 
Perilous  visions  of  those  palmy  keys, 
Cocoa-nut  islands,  parrot-haunted  woods, 
Crisp  coral  reefs  and  blue  shark-finned  lagoons 
Fringed  with  the  creaming  foam,  mile  upon  mile 
Of  mystery.     Dream  after  dream  went  by, 
Colouring  the  brown  air  of  that  London  night 
With  many  a  mad  miraculous  romance. 
There,  suddenly,  some  augury,  some  flash 
Showed  him  a  coming  promise,  a  strange  hint, 
Which,  though  he  played  with  it,  he  scarce 

believed; 

Strange  as  in  some  dark  cave  the  first  fierce  gleam 
Of  pirate  gold  to  some  forlorn  maroon 
Who  tiptoes  to  the  heap  and  glances  round 
Askance,  and  dreads  to  hear  what  erst  he  longed 

19 


DRAKE 

To  hear — some  voice  to  break  the  hush ;  but  bathes 
Both  hands  with  childish  laughter  in  the  gold, 
And  lets  it  trickle  through  his  fevered  palms, 
And  begins  counting  half  a  hundred  times 
And  loses  count  each  time  for  sheer  delight 
And  Wonder  in  it:  meantime,  if  he  knew, 
Passing  the  cave-mouth,  far  away,  beyond 
The  still  lagoon,  the  coral  reef,  the  foam 
And  the  white  fluttering  chatter  of  the  birds, 
A  sail  that  might  have  saved  him  comes  and  goes 
Unseen  across  the  blue  Pacific  sea. 
So  Drake,  too,  played  with  fancies;  but  that  sail 
Passed  not  unseen,  for  suddenly  there  came 
A  firm  and  heavy  footstep  to  the  door, 
Then  a  loud  knocking;  and,  at  first,  he  thought 
"  I  am  a  dead  man :  there  is  peace  with  Spain, 
And  they  are  come  to  lead  me  to  my  doom." 
But,  as  he  looked  across  one  shoulder,  pride 
Checking  the  fuller  watch  for  what  he  feared, 
The  door  opened;  and  cold  as  from  the  sea 
The  night  rushed  in,  and  there  against  the  gloom, 
Clad,  as  it  seemed,  with  wind  and  cloud  and  rain, 
There  loomed  a  stately  form  and  high  grim  face 

20 


BOOK    I 


Loaded  with  deadly  thoughts  of  iron  war — 
Walsingham.     In  one  hand  he  held  a  map 
Marked  with  red  lines;  the  other  hand  held  down 
The  rich  encrusted  hilt  of  his  great  sword. 
Then  Drake  rose,  and  the  other  cautiously 
Closing  the  door  drew  near  the  flickering  light 
And  spread  his  map  out  on  the  table,  saying — 
"  Mark  for  me  here  the  points  whereat  the  King 
Philip  of  Spain  may  best  be  wounded,  mark 
The  joints  of  his  harness;"  and  Drake  looked  at 

him 

Thinking,  "  If  he  betray  me,  I  am  dead." 
But  the  soldier  met  his  eyes  and,  with  a  laugh, 
Drake,  quivering  like  a  bloodhound  in  the  leash, 
Stooped,  with  his  finger  pointing  thus  and  thus — 
"  Here  would  I  guard,  here  would  I  lie  in  wait, 
Here  would  I  strike  him  through  the  breast  and 

throat." 

And  as  he  spoke  he  kindled,  and  began 
To  set  forth  his  great  dreams,  and  high  romance 
Rose  like  a  moon  reflecting  the  true  sun 
Unseen;  and  as  the  full  round  moon  indeed 
Rising  behind  a  mighty  mountain-chain 

21 


DRAKE 


Will  shadow  forth  in  outline  grim  and  black 
Its  vast  and  ragged  edges,  so  that  moon 
Of  high  romance  rose  greatly  shadowing  forth 
The  grandeur  of  his  dreams,  until  their  might 
Dawned  upon  Walsingham,  and  he,  too,  saw 
For  a  moment  of  muffled  moonlight  and  wild  cloud 
The  vision  of  the  imperious  years  to  be ! 
But  suddenly  Drake  paused  as  one  who  strays 
Beyond  the  bounds  of  caution,  paused  and  cursed 
His  tongue  for  prating  like  a  moon-struck  boy's. 
"  I  am  mad,"  he  cried,  "  I  am  mad  to  babble  so !  " 
Then  Walsingham  drew  near  him  with  strange 

eyes, 

And  muttered  slowly,  "  Write  that  madness  down; 
Ay,  write  it  down,  that  madman's  plan  of  thine; 
Sign  it,  and  let  me  take  it  to  the  Queen." 
But  the  weather-wiser  seaman  warily 
Answered  him,  "  If  it  please  Almighty  God 
To  take  away  our  Queen  Elizabeth, 
Seeing  that  she  is  mortal  as  ourselves, 
England  might  then  be  leagued  with  Spain,  and  I 
Should  here  have  sealed  my  doom.     I  will  not  put 
My  pen  to  paper." 

22 


SIR  FRANCIS  WALSIKGHAM 

From  an  Original  Painting 


OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 


BOOK    I 


So,  across  the  charts, 

With  that  dim  light  on  each  grim  countenance 
The  seaman  and  the  courtier  subtly  fenced 
With  words  and  thoughts,  but  neither  would  betray 
His  whole  heart  to  the  other.     At  the  last 
Walsingham  gripped  the  hand  of  Francis  Drake 
And  left  him  wondering. 

On  the  third  night  came 
A  messenger  from  Walsingham,  who  bade 
Drake  to  the  Palace,  where,  without  one  word, 
The  statesman  met  him  in  an  anteroom 
And  led  him,  with  flushed  cheek  and  beating  heart, 
Along  a  mighty  gold-gloomed  corridor 
Into  a  high-arched  chamber,  hung  with  tall 
Curtains  of  gold-fringed  silk  and  tapestries 
From  Flanders  looms,  whereon  were  flowers  and 

beasts 
And  forest-work,   great  knights,   with  hawk  on 

hand, 

Riding  for  ever  on  their  glimmering  steeds 
Through  bowery  glades  to  some  immortal  face 
Beyond  the  fairy  fringes  of  the  world. 
A  silver  lamp  swung  softly  overhead, 

23 


DRAKE 


Fed  with  some  perfumed  oil  that  shed  abroad 
Delicious  light  and  fragrances  as  rare 
As  those  that  stirred  faint  wings  at  eventide 
Through  the  King's  House  in  Lebanon  of  old. 
Into  a  quietness  as  of  fallen  bloom 
Their  feet  sank  in  that  chamber ;  and,  all  round, 
Soft  hills  of  Moorish  cushions  dimly  drowsed 
On  glimmering  crimson  couches.     Near  the  lamp 
An  ebony  chess-board  stood  inlaid  with  squares 
Of  ruby  and  emerald,  garnished  with  cinque-foils 
Of  silver,  bears  and  ragged  staves :  the  men, 
Likewise  of  precious  stones,  were  all  arrayed — 
Bishops  and  knights  and  elephants  and  pawns — • 
As  for  a  game.     Sixteen  of  them  were  set 
In  silver  white,  the  other  sixteen  gilt. 
Now,  as  Drake  gazed  upon  an  arras,  nigh 
The  farther  doors,  whereon  was  richly  wrought 
The  picture  of  that  grave  and  lovely  queen 
Penelope,  with  cold  hands  weaving  still 
The  unending  web,  while  in  an  outer  court 
The  broad-limbed  wooers  basking  in  the  sun 
On  purple  fleeces  took  from  white-armed  girls, 
Up-kirtled  to  the  knee,  the  crimson  wine; 

24 


BOOK    I 


There,  as  he  gazed  and  thought,  "  Is  this  not  like 
Our  Queen  Elizabeth,  who  waits  and  weaves, 
Penelope  of  England,  her  dark  web 
Unendingly  till  England's  Empire  come?" 
There,  as  he  gazed,  for  a  moment,  he  could  vow 
The  pictured  arras  moved.     Well  had  it  been 
Had  he  drawn  sword  and  pierced  it  through  and 

through ; 

But  he  suspected  nothing  and  said  nought 
To  Walsingham;  for  thereupon  they  heard 
The  sound  of  a  low  lute  and  a  sweet  voice 
Carolling  like  a  gold-caged  nightingale, 
Caught  by  the  fowlers  ere  he  found  his  mate, 
And  singing  all  his  heart  out  evermore 
To  the  unknown  forest-love  he  ne'er  should  see. 
And  Walsingham  smiled  sadly  to  himself, 
Knowing  the  weary  queen  had  bidden  some  maid 
Sing  to  her,  even  as  David  sang  to  Saul; 
Since  all  her  heart  was  bitter  with  her  love 
Or  so  it  was  breathed  (and  there  the  chess-board 

stood, 

Her  love's  device  upon  it) ,  though  she  still, 
For  England's  sake,  must  keep  great  foreign  kings 

25 


DRAKE 


Her  suitors,  wedding  no  man  till  she  died. 
Nor  did  she  know  how,  in  her  happiest  hour 
Remembered  now  most  sorrowfully,  the  moon, 
Vicegerent  of  the  sky,  through  summer  dews, 
As  that  sweet  ballad  tells  in  plaintive  rhyme, 
Silvering  the  grey  old  Cumnor  towers  and  all 
The  hollow  haunted  oaks  that  grew  thereby, 
Gleamed  on  a  casement  whence  the  pure  white 

face 

Of  Amy  Robsart,  wife  of  Leicester,  wife 
Unknown  of  the  Queen's  lover,  a  frail  bar 
To  that  proud  Earl's  ambition,  quietly  gazed 
And  heard  the  night-owl  hoot  a  dark  presage 
Of  murder  through  her  timid,  shuddering  heart. 
But  of  that  deed  Elizabeth  knew  nought; 
Nay,  white  as  Amy  Robsart  in  her  dream 
Of  love  she  listened  to  the  sobbing  lute, 
Bitterly  happy,  proudly  desolate; 
So  heavy  are  all  earth's  crowns  and  sharp  with 

thorns ! 
But  tenderly  that  high-born  maiden  sang: 


26 


BOOK     I 


SONG 

Now  the  purple  night  is  past, 

Now  the  moon  more  faintly  glows, 
Dawn  has  through  thy  casement  cast 

Roses  on  thy  breast,  a  rose; 
Now  the  kisses  are  all  done, 

Now  the  world  awakes  anew, 
Now  the  charmed  hour  is  gone, 

Let  not  love  go,  too. 

When  old  winter,  creeping  nigh, 

Sprinkles  raven  hair  with  white, 
Dims  the  brightly  glancing  eye, 

Laughs  away  the  dancing  light, 
Roses  may  forget  their  sun, 

Lilies  may  forget  their  dew, 
Beauties  perish,  one  by  one, 

Let  not  love  go,  too. 

Palaces  and  towers  of  pride 

Crumble  year  by  year  away; 
Creeds  like  robes  are  laid  aside, 
Even  our  very  tombs  decay! 
27 


DRAKE 


When  the  all-conquering  moth  and  rust 
Gnaw  the  goodly  garment  through, 

When  the  dust  returns  to  dust, 
Let  not  love  go,  too. 

Kingdoms  melt  away  like  snow, 

Gods  are  spent  like  wasting  flames, 
Hardly  the  new  peoples  know 

Their  divine  thrice-worshipped  names! 
At  the  last  great  hour  of  all, 

When  Thou  makest  all  things  new, 
Father,  hear  Thy  children  call, 

Let  not  love  go,  too. 

The  song  ceased :  all  was  still ;  and  now  it  seemed 
Power  brooded  on  the  silence,  and  Drake  saw 
A  woman  come  to  meet  him, — tall  and  pale 
And  proud  she  seemed :  behind  her  head  two  wings 
As  of  some  mighty  phantom  butterfly 
Glimmered  with  jewel-sparks  in  the  gold  gloDm. 
Her  small,  pure,  grey-eyed  face  above  her  ruff 
Was  chiselled  like  an  agate;  and  he  knew 
It  was  the  Queen.     Low  bent  he  o'er  her  hand ; 
And  "  Ah,"  she  said,  "  Sir  Francis  Walsingham 

28 


BOOK     I 


Hath  told  me  what  an  English  heart  beats  here ! 
Know  you  what  injuries  the  King  of  Spain 
Hath  done  us?"     Drake  looked  up  at  her:  she 

smiled, 

"  We  find  you  apt!     Will  you  not  be  our  knight? 
For  we  are  helpless  " — witchingly  she  smiled — 
"  We  are  not  ripe  for  war;  our  policy 
Must  still  be  to  uphold  the  velvet  cloak 
Of  peace;  but  I  would  have  it  mask  the  hand 
That  holds  the  dagger !     Will  you  not  unfold 
Your  scheme  to  us?  "     And  then  with  a  low  bow 
Walsingham,  at  a  signal  from  the  Queen, 
Withdrew;  and  she  looked  down  at  Drake  and 

smiled ; 

And  in  his  great  simplicity  the  man 
Spake  all  his  heart  out  like  some  youthful  knight 
Before  his  Gloriana :  his  heart  burned, 
Knowing  he  talked  with  England,  face  to  face; 
And  suddenly  the  Queen  bent  down  to  him, 
England  bent  down  to  him,  and  his  heart  reeled 
With  the  beauty  of  her  presence — for  indeed 
Women  alone  have  royal  power  like  this 
Within  their  very  selves  enthroned  and  shrined 

29 


DRAKE 


To  draw  men's  hearts  out !     Royal  she  bent  down 
And  touched  his  hand  for  a  moment.     "  Friend," 

she  said, 

Looking  into  his  face  with  subtle  eyes, 
"  I  have  searched  thy  soul  to-night  and  know  full 

well 

How  I  can  trust  thee !     Canst  thou  think  that  I, 
The  daughter  of  my  royal  father,  lack 
The  fire  which  every  boor  in  England  feels 
Burning  within  him  as  the  bloody  score 
Which  Spain  writes  on  the  flesh  of  Englishmen 
Mounts  higher  day  by  day?     Am  I  not  Tudor? 
I  am  not  deaf  or  blind;  nor  yet  a  king! 
I  am  a  woman  and  a  queen,  and  where 
Kings  would  have  plunged  into  their  red  revenge 
Or  set  their  throne  up  on  this  temporal  shore, 
As  flatterers  bade  that  wiser  king  Canute, 
Thence  to  command  the  advancing  tides  of  battle 
Till  one  ensanguined  sea  whelm  throne  and  king 
And  kingdom ;  friend,  I  take  my  woman's  way, 
Smile  in  mine  enemies'  faces  with  a  heart 
All  hell,  and  undermine  them  hour  by  hour ! 
This  island  scarce  can  fend  herself  from  France, 

30 


BOOK    I 


And  now  Spain  holds  the  keys  of  all  the  world : 
How  should  we  fight  her,  save  that  my  poor  wit 
Hath  won  the  key  to  Philip  ?     Oh,  I  know 
His  treacherous,  lecherous  heart,  and  hour  by  hour 
My  nets  are  drawing  round  him.     I,  that  starve 
My  public  armies,  feed  his  private  foes, 
Nourish  his  rebels  in  the  Netherlands, 
Nay,  sacrifice  mine  own  poor  woman's  heart 
To  keep    him  mine — there  is  no  sacrifice 
On  earth  like  this — and  surely  now  stands  Fate 
With  hand  uplifted  by  the  doors  of  Spain 
Ready  to  knock :  the  time  is  close  at  hand 
When  I  shall  strike,  once,  and  no  second  stroke. 
Remember,  friend,  though  kings  have  fought  for 

her, 

This  England,  with  the  trident  in  her  grasp, 
Was  ever  woman;  and  she  waits  her  throne; 
And  thou  canst  speed  it.     Furnish  thee  with  ships, 
Gather  thy  gentleman  adventurers, 
And  be  assured  thy  parsimonious  queen — » 
Oh,  ay,  she  knows  that  chattering  of  the  world — 
Will  find  thee  wealth  enough.     Then  put  to  sea, 
Fly  the  black  flag  of  piracy  awhile 


DRAKE 


Against  these  blackest  foes  of  all  mankind. 
Nay;  what  hast  thou  to  do  with  piracy? 
Hostis  humani  generis  indeed 
Is  Spain:  she  dwells  beyond  the  bounds  of  law; 
Thine  is  no  piracy,  whatever  men  say, 
Thou  art  a  knight  on  Gloriana's  quest. 
Oh,  lay  that  golden  unction  to  thy  soul, 
This  is  no  piracy,  but  glorious  war, 
Waged  for  thy  country  and  for  all  mankind; 
Therefore  put  out  to  sea  without  one  fear, 
Ransack  their  El  Dorados  of  the  West, 
Pillage  their  golden  galleons,  sap  their  strength 
Even  at  its  utmost  fountains :  let  them  know 
That  there  is  blood,  not  water,  in  our  veins. 
Carry  thy  scheme  out  to  the  glorious  end, 
And,  though  at  first  thou  needs  must  ride  alone 
And  unsupported,  ere  that  end  is  reached, 
When  I  shall  give  the  word,  nay,  but  one  word, 
All  England  shall  be  up  and  after  thee : 
The  sword  of  England  shall  shine  over  thee, 
And  round  about  thee  like  a  guardian  fire ; 
All  the  great  soul  of  England  shall  be  there; 
Her  mighty  dead  shall  at  that  cry  of  doom 

32 


BOOK    I 


Rise  from  their  graves,  and  in  God's  panoply 
Plunge    with    out    standards    through    immortal 

storms 

When  Drake  rides  out  across  the  wreck  of  Rome. 
As  yet  we  must  be  cautious ;  let  no  breath 
Escape  thee,  save  to  thy  most  trusted  friends; 
For  now,  if  my  lord  Burleigh  heard  one  word 
Of  all  thou  hast  in  mind,  he  is  so  much 
The  friend  of  caution  and  the  beaten  road 
He  would  not  rest  till  he  had  wrecked  thy  hopes 
And  sealed  thy  doom !     Go  now,  fit  out  thy  ships. 
Walsingham  is  empowered  to  give  thee  gold 
Immediately,  but  look  to  him  for  more 

As  thou  shalt  need  it,  gold  and  gold  to  spare, 
My  golden-hearted  pilot  to  the  shores 
Of  Empire — so  farewell ;  "  and  through  the  gloom 
She  vanished  as  she  came;  and  Drake  groped, 

dazed, 

Out  through  the  doors,  and  found  great  Walsing 
ham 
Awaiting  him  with  gold. 

But  in  the  room 
33 


DRAKE 

Where   Drake   had  held  his   converse   with  the 

Queen 

The  embroidered  arras  moved,  and  a  lean  face, 
White  with  its  long  eavesdropping  upon  death, 
Crept  out  and  peered  as  a  venomous  adder  peers 
From  out  dark  ferns,  then  as  the  reptile  flashes 
Along  a  path  between  two  banks  of  flowers 
Almost  too  swift  for  sight,  a  stealthy  form — 
One  of  the  fifty  spies  whom  Burleigh  paid — 
Passed  down  the  gold-gloomed  corridor  to  seek 
His  master,  whom  among  great  books  he  found, 
Calm,  like  a  mountain  brooding  o'er  the  sea. 
Nor  did  he  break  that  calm  for  all  these  winds 
Of  rumour  that  now  burst  from  out  the  sky. 
His  brow  bent  like  a  cliff  over  his  thoughts, 
And  the  spy  watched  him  half  resentfully, 
Thinking  his  news  well  worth  a  blacker  frown. 
At  last  the  statesman  smiled  and  answered,  "  Go; 
Fetch  Thomas  Doughty,  Leicester's  secretary." 

Few  suns  had  risen  and  set  ere  Francis  Drake 
Had  furnished  forth  his  ships  with  guns  and  men, 
Tried  seamen  that  he  knew  in  storms  of  old, — 

34 


BOOK    I 


Will  Harvest,  who  could  haul  the  ropes  and  fight 
All  day,  and  sing  a  foc'sle  song  to  cheer 
Sea-weary  hearts  at  night;  brave  old  Tom  Moone 
The  carpenter,  whose  faithful  soul  looked  up 
To  Drake's  large  mastery  with  a  mastiff's  eyes; 
And  three-score  trusty  mariners,  all  scarred 
And  weather-beaten.     After  these  there  came 
Some  two-score  gentleman  adventurers, 
Gay  college  lads  or  lawyers  that  had  grown 
Sick  of  the  dusty  Temple,  and  were  fired 
With  tales  of  the  rich  Indies  and  those  tall 
Enchanted  galleons  drifting  through  the  West, 
Laden  with  ingots  and  broad  bars  of  gold. 
Already  some  had  bought  at  a  great  price 
Green  birds  of  Guatemala,  which  they  wore 
On  their  slouched  hats,  tasting  the  high  romance 
And  new-found  colours  of  the  world  like  wine. 
By  night  they  gathered  in  a  marvellous  inn 
Beside  the  black  and  secret  flowing  Thames; 
And  joyously  they  tossed  the  magic  phrase 
"Pieces  of  eight "   from  mouth  to  mouth,   and 

laughed 

And  held  the  red  wine  up,  night  after  night, 

35 


DRAKE 


Around  their  tables,  toasting  Francis  Drake. 
Among  these  came  a  courtier,  and  none  knew 
Or  asked  by  whose  approval,  for  each  thought 
Some  other  brought  him ;  yet  he  made  his  way 
Cautiously,  being  a  man  with  a  smooth  tongue, 
The  secretary  of  Leicester;  and  his  name 
Was  Thomas  Doughty.     Most  of  all  with  Drake 
He  won  his  way  to  friendship,  till  at  last 
There  seemed  one  heart  between  them  and  one 
soul. 


BOOK    II 

SO  on  a  misty  grey  December  morn 
Five  ships  put  out  from  calm  old  Plym 
outh  Sound; 

Five  little  ships,  the  largest  not  so  large 
As  many  a  coasting  yacht  or  fishing-trawl 
To-day;  yet  these  must  brave  uncharted  seas 
Of  unimagined  terrors,  haunted  glooms, 
And  shadowy  horrors  of  an  unknown  world 
Wild  as  primaeval  chaos.     In  the  first, 
The  Golden  Hynde,  a  ship  of  eighteen  guns, 
Drake  sailed :  John  Wynter,  a  queen's  captain,  next 
Brought  out  the  Elizabeth,  a  stout  new  ship 
Of  sixteen  guns.     The  pinnace  Christopher 
Came   next,   in   staunch   command   of  old  Tom 

Moone 

Who,  five  years  back,  with  reeking  powder  grimed, 
Off  Cartagena  fought  against  the  stars 
All  night,  and,  as  the  sun  arose  in  blood, 
Knee-deep  in  blood  and  brine,  stood  in  the  dark 

37 


DRAKE 


Perilous  hold  and  scuttled  his  own  ship 

The  Swan,  bidding  her  go  down  to  God's  great 

deep 

Rather  than  yield  her  up  a  prize  to  Spain. 
Lastly  two  gentleman-adventurers 
Brought  out  the  new  Swan  and  the  Mary  gold. 

Their  crews,  all  told,  were  eight  score  men  and 

boys. 

Not  only  terrors  of  the  deep  they  braved, 
Bodiless  witchcrafts  of  the  black  abyss, 
Red  gaping  mouths  of  hell  and  gulfs  of  fire 
That  yawned  for  all  who  passed  the  tropic  line; 
But  death  lurked  round  them  from  their  setting 

forth. 

Mendoza,  plenipotentiary  of  Spain, 
By  spies  informed,  had  swiftly  warned  his  king, 
Who  sent  out  mandates  through  his  huge  empire 
From  Guadalchiber  to  the  golden  West 
For  the  instant  sinking  of  all  English  ships 
And  the  instant  execution  of  their  crews 
Who  durst  appear  in  the  Caribbean  Sea. 
Moreover,  in  the  pith  of  their  emprise 

38 


BOOK    II 


A  peril  lurked — Burleigh's  emissaries, 

The  smooth-tongued  Thomas  Doughty,  who  had 

brought 

His  brother — unacquitted  of  that  charge 
Of  poisoning,  raised  against  him  by  the  friends 
Of  Essex,  but  in  luckless  time  released 
Lately  for  lack  of  proof,  on  no  strong  plea. 
These  two  wound  through  them  like  two  snakes  at 

ease 

In  Eden,  waiting  for  their  venomous  hour. 
Especially  did  Thomas  Doughty  toil 
With  soft  and  flowery  tongue  to  win  his  way; 
And  Drake,  whose  rich  imagination  craved 
For  something  more  than  simple  seaman's  talk, 
Was  marvellously  drawn  to  this  new  friend, 
Who  with  the  scholar's  mind,  the  courtier's  gloss, 
The  lawyer's  wit,  the  adventurer's  romance, 
Gold  honey  from  the  blooms  of  Euphues, 
Rare  flashes  from  the  Mermaid  and  sweet  smiles 
Copied  from  Sidney's  self,  even  to  the  glance 
Of  sudden,  liquid  sympathy,  gave  Drake 
That  banquet  of  the  soul  he  ne'er  had  known 
Nor  needed  till  he  knew,  but  needed  now. 

39 


DRAKE 

So  to  the  light  of  Doughty's  answering  eyes 
He  poured  his  inmost  thoughts  out,  hour  by  hour ; 
And  Doughty  coiled  up  in  the  heart  of  Drake. 

Against  such  odds  the  tiny  fleet  set  sail; 
Yet  gallantly  and  with  heroic  pride, 
Escutcheoned  pavisades,  emblazoned  poops, 
Banners  and  painted  shields  and  close-fights  hung 
With  scarlet  broideries.     Every  polished  gun 
Grinned  through  the  jaws  of  some  heraldic  beast, 
Gilded  and  carven  and  gleaming  with  all  hues ; 
While  in  the  cabin  of  the  Golden  Hynde 
Rich  perfumes  floated,  given  by  the  great  Queen 
Herself  to  Drake  as  Captain-General; 
So  that  it  seemed  her  soul  was  with  the  fleet, 
A  presence  to  remind  him,  far  away, 
Of  how  he  talked  with  England  face  to  face, — 
No  pirate  he,  but  Gloriana's  knight. 
Silver  and  gold  his  table  furniture, 
Engraved  and  richly  chased,  lavishly  gleamed 
While,   fanned  by  favouring  airs,  the  ships  ad 
vanced 

With  streaming  flags  and  ensigns  and  sweet  chords 

40 


BOOK    II 


Of  music  struck  by  skilled  musicians 
Whom  Drake  brought  with  him,  not  from  vanity, 
But  knowing  how  the  pulse  of  men  beats  high 
To  music;  and  the  hearts  of  men  like  these 
Were  open  to  the  high  romance  of  earth, 
And  they  that  dwelt  so  near  God's  mystery 
Were  proud  of  their  own  manhood.     They  went 

out 

To  danger  as  to  a  sweetheart  far  away, 
Who  even  now  was  drawing  the  western  clouds 
Like  a  cymar  of  silk  and  snow-white  furs 
Close  to  her,  till  her  body's  beauty  seemed 
Clad  in  a  mist  of  kisses.     They  desired 
Her  glittering  petulance  and  her  sulky  sweet 
Red  pouts  of  anger.     They  went  out  to  her 
With  pomp  and  ceremony,  richly  attired 
And  girt  about  with  honour  as  befit 
Souls  that  might  talk  with  angels  by  the  way. 

Light  as  the  sea-birds  dipping  their  white  wings 
In  foam  before  the  gently  heaving  prows 
Each  heart  beat,  while  the  low  soft  lapping  splash 
Of  water  racing  past  them  ripped  and  tore 


DRAKE 


Whiter  and  faster,  and  the  bellying  sails 
Filled  out,  and  the  white  cliffs  of  England  sank 
Dwindling  behind  the  broad  grey  plains  of  sea. 
Meekly  content  and  tamely  stay-at-home 
The  sea-birds  seemed  that  piped  across  the  waves; 
And  Drake,  be-mused,  leaned  smiling  to  his  friend 
Doughty  and  said,  "  Is  it  not  strange  to  know 
When  we  return  yon  speckled  herring-gulls 
Will  still  be  wheeling,  dipping,  flashing  there 
Just  as  we  leave  them?     Ah,  my  heart  cries  out 
We  shall  not  find  a  sweeter  land  afar 
Than  those  thyme-scented  hills  we  leave  behind! 
Soon  the  young  lambs  will  bleat  across  the  combes, 
And  breezes  will  bring  puffs  of  hawthorn  scent 
Down  Devon  lanes ;  over  the  purple  moors 
Lavrocks  will  carol  and  the  plover  cry, 
The  nesting  peewit  cry;  on  village  greens 
Around  the  May-pole,  while  the  moon  hangs  low, 
The  boys  and  girls  of  England  merrily  swing 
In  country  footing  through  the  flowery  dance ; 
Roses  return :  I  blame  them  not  who  stay, 
I  blame  them  not  at  all  who  cling  to  home. 
For  many  of  us  indeed  shall  not  return, 

42 


BOOK    II 


Nor  ever  know  that  sweetness  any  more. 

But  when  our  English  clover  once  again 

Reddens  round  valleys  thick  with  waving  gold, 

Many  beyond  the  faintest  flush  of  dawn 

Shall  sleep  for  ever  in  the  cold  green  sea: 

'Tis  only  we  poor  wandering  prodigals 

That  know  the  worth  and  wealth  of  heaven  and 

home. 

Bear  with  my  weakness,  for  my  heart  is  full 
Of  yonder  England,  our  sweet  Ida  mount, 
Mother  of  all  our  hopes  and  dreams  and  prayers, 
Nor  do  I  think  a  man  needs  be  ashamed 
Whose  eyes  grow  wet  to  leave  his  native  land ; 
For  there  is  nought  a  man  should  hold  more  dear 
Than  his  own  country  and  his  father's  home." 
Then  the  other  with  a  laugh,  "  Nay,  like  the  man 
Who  slept  a  hundred  years  we  shall  return 
And  find  our  England  strange:  there  are  great 

storms 

Brewing;  God  only  knows  what  we  shall  find — 
Perchance  a  Spanish  king  upon  the  throne ! 
What  then?  "     And  Drake,  "  I  should  put  down 

my  helm, 

43 


DRAKE 


And  out  once  more  to  the  unknown  golden  West 

To  die,  as  I  have  lived,  an  Englishman. " 

So  said  he,  while  the  white  cliffs  dwindled  down, 

Faded,  and  vanished;  but  the  prosperous  wind 

Carried  the  five  ships  onward  over  the  swell 

Of  swinging,  sweeping  seas,  till  the  sun  sank, 

And  height  o'er  height  the  chaos  of  the  skies 

Broke  out  into  the  miracle  of  the  stars. 

Frostily  glittering,  all  the  Milky  Way 

Lay  bare  like  diamond-dust  upon  the  robe 

Of  some  great  king.     Orion  and  the  Plough 

Glimmered  through  drifting  gulfs  of  silver  fleece, 

And,  far  away,  in  Italy,  that  night 

Young  Galileo,  looking  upward,  heard 

The  self-same  whisper  through  that  wild  abyss 

Which  now  called  Drake  out  to  the  unknown  West. 

But,  after  supper,  Drake  came  up  on  deck 

With  Doughty,  and  on  the  cold  poop  as  they 

leaned 

And  gazed  across  the  rolling  gleam  and  gloom 
Of  mighty  muffled  seas,  began  to  give 
iVoice  to  those  lovely  captives  of  the  brain 
Which,  like  princesses  in  some  forest-tower, 

44 


BOOK    II 


'•till  yearn  for  the  delivering  prince,  the  sweet 
Far  bugle-note  that  calls  from  answering  minds. 
He  told  him  how,  in  those  dark  days  which  now 
Seemed  like  an  evil  dream,  when  the  Princess 
Elizabeth  even  trembled  for  her  life 
And  read  there,  by  the  gleam  of  Smithfield  fires, 
Those  cunning  lessons  of  diplomacy 
Which  saved  her  then  and  now  for  England's  sake, 
He  passed  his  youth.     'Twas  when  the  power  of 

Rome 

Began  to  light  the  gloom  with  that  great  glare 
Of  martyrdom  which,  while  the  stars  endure, 
Bears  witness  how  men  overcame  the  world, 
Trod  the  red  flames  beneath  their  feet  like 

flowers — 

Yea,  cast  aside  the  blackening  robe  of  flesh, 
While  with  a  crown  of  joy  upon  their  heads, 
Even  as  into  a  palace,  they  passed  through 
The  portals  of  the  tomb  to  prove  their  love 
Stronger  at  least  than  death :  and,  in  those  days 
A  Puritan,  with  iron  in  his  soul, 
Having  in  earlier  manhood  occupied 
His  business  in  great  waters  and  beheld 

45 


DRAKE 


The  bloody  cowls  of  the  Inquisition  pass 
Before  the  midnight  moon  as  he  kept  watch; 
And  having  then  forsworn  the  steely  sea 
To  dwell  at  home  in  England  with  his  love 
At  Tavistock  in  Devon,  Edmund  Drake 
Began,  albeit  too  near  the  Abbey  walls, 
To  speak  too  staunchly  for  his  ancient  faith ; 
And  with  his  young  child  Francis,  had  to  flee 
By  night  at  last  for  shelter  to  the  coast. 
Little  the  boy  remembered  of  that  flight, 
Pillioned  behind  his  father,  save  the  clang 
And  clatter  of  the  hoofs  on  stony  ground 
Striking  a  sharp  blue  fire,  while  country  tales 
Of  highwaymen  kindled  his  reckless  heart 
As  the  great  steed  went  shouldering  through  the 

night. 

There  Francis,  laying  a  little  sunburnt  hand 
On  the  big  bolstered  pistol  at  each  side, 
Dreamed  with  his  wide  grey  eyes  that  he  himself 
Was  riding  out  on  some  freebooting  quest, 
And  felt  himself  heroic.     League  by  league 
The  magic  world  .rolled  past  him  as  they  rode, 
Leaving  him  nothing  but  a  memory 


BOOK    II 


Of  his  own  making.     Vaguely  he  perceived 
A  thousand  meadows  darkly  streaming  by 
With  clouds  of  perfume  from  their  secret  flowers, 
A  wayside  cottage-window  pointing  out 
A  golden  finger  o'er  the  purple  road; 
A  puff  of  garden  roses  or  a  waft 
Of  honeysuckle  blown  along  a  wood, 
While  overhead  that  silver  ship,  the  moon, 
Sailed  slowly  down  the  gulfs  of  glittering  stars, 
Till,  at  the  last,  a  buffet  of  fresh  wind 
Fierce  with  sharp  savours  of  the  stinging  brine 
Against  his  dreaming  face  brought  up  a  roar 
Of  mystic  welcome  from  the  Channel  seas. 
And  there  Drake  paused  for  a  moment,  as  a  song 
Stole  o'er  the  waters  from  the  Mary  gold, 
Where  some  musician,  striking  luscious  chords 
Of  sweet-stringed  music,  freed  his  heart's  desire 
In  symbols  of  the  moment,  which  the  rest, 
And  Doughty  among  them,  scarce  could 
understand. 


47 


DRAKE 


SONG 

The  moon  is  up:  the  stars  are  bright: 

The  wind  is  fresh  and  free! 
We're  out  to  seek  for  gold  to-night 

Across  the  silver  sea! 
The  world  was  growing  grey  and  old, 

Break  out  the  sails  again! 
We're  out  to  seek  a  Realm  of  Gold 

Beyond  the  Spanish  Main. 

We're  sick  of  (ill  the  cringing  knees, 

The  courtly  smiles  and  lies! 
God,  let  Thy  singing  Channel  breeze 

Lighten  our  hearts  and  eyes! 
Let  love  no  more  be  bought  and  sold 

For  earthly  loss  or  gain: 
We're  out  to  seek  an  Age  of  Gold 

Beyond  the  Spanish  Main. 

Beyond  the  light  of  far  Cathay, 
Beyond  all  mortal  dreams, 

Beyond  the  reach  of  night  and  day 
Our,  Eldorado  gleams, 


BOOK    II 


Revealing — as  the  skies  unfold — 

A  star  without  a  stain, 
The  Glory  of  the  Gates  of  Gold 

Beyond  the  Spanish  Main. 

And,  as  the  skilled  musician  made  the  words 

Of  momentary  meaning  still  imply 

His  own  eternal  hope  and  heart's  desire, 

Without  belief,  perchance,  in  Drake's  own  quest — 

To  Drake's  own  greater  mind  the  eternal  glory 

Seemed  to  transfigure  his  immediate  hope. 

But  Doughty  only  heard  a  sweet  concourse 

Of  sounds:  they  ceased,  and  Drake  resumed  his 

tale 

Of  that  strange  flight  in  boyhood  to  the  sea. 
Next,  the  red-curtained  inn  and  kindly  hands 
Of  Protestant  Plymouth  held  his  memory  long; 
Often  in  strange  and  distant  dreams  he  saw 
That  scene  which  now  he  tenderly  pourtrayed 
To  Doughty's  half-ironic  smiling  lips, 
Half-sympathetic  eyes;  he  saw  again 
That  small  inn  parlour  with  homely  fare 
Set  forth  upon  the  table,  saw  the  gang 

49 


DRAKE 


Of  seamen  reeking  from  the  spray  come  in, 

Like  great  new  thoughts  to  some  adventurous 

brain. 

Feeding  his  wide  grey  eyes  he  saw  them  stand 
Around  the  crimson  fire  and  stamp  their  feet 
And  scatter  the  salt  drops  from  their  big  sea-boots ; 
And  all  that  night  he  lay  awake  and  heard 
Mysterious  thunderings  of  eternal  tides 
Moaning  out  of  a  cold  and  houseless  gloom 
Beyond  the  world,  that  made  it  seem  most  sweet 
To  slumber  in  a  little  four-walled  inn 
Immune  from  all  that  vastness.     But  at  dawn 
He  woke,  he  leapt  from  bed,  he  ran  and  lookt, 
There,   through  the   tiny  high  bright  casement, 

there, — >. 

Oh,  fairy  vision  of  that  small  boy's  face 
Peeping  at  daybreak  through  the  diamond  pane ! — 
There  first  he  saw  the  wondrous  new-born  world, 
And  round  its  princely  shoulders  wildly  flowing, 
Gemmed  with  a  myriad  clusters  of  the  sun, 
The  magic  azure  mantle  of  the  sea. 
And,  afterwards,  there  came  those  marvellous  days 
When,  on  that  battleship,  a  disused  hulk 

50 


BOOK    II 


Rotting  to  death  in  Chatham  Reach,  they  found 

Sanctuary  and  a  dwelling-place  at  last. 

For   Hawkins,   that  great  shipman,   being   their 

friend, 

A  Protestant,  with  power  on  Plymouth  town, 
Nigh  half   whereof   he   owned,    made   Edmund 

Drake 

Reader  of  prayer  to  all  the  ships  of  war 
That  lay  therein.     So  there  the  dreaming  boy, 
Francis,  grew  up  in  that  grim  nursery 
Among   the   ropes   and   masts  and   great   dumb 

mouths 

Of  idle  ordnance.     In  that  hulk  he  heard 
Many  a  time  his  father  and  his  friends 
Over  some  wild-eyed  troop  of  refugees 
Thunder  against  the  powers  of  Spain  and  Rome, 
"  Idolaters,  who  defiled  the  House  of  God 
In  England;  "  and  all  round  them,  as  he  heard, 
The   clang  and  clatter  of  shipwright  hammers 

rang, 

And  hour  by  hour  upon  his  vision  rose, 
In  solid  oak  reality,  new  ships, 
As  Ilion  rose  to  music,  ships  of  war, 


DRAKE 

The  visible  shapes  and  symbols  of  his  dream, 
Unconscious  yet,  but  growing  as  they  grew, 
A  wondrous  incarnation,  hour  by  hour, 
Till  with  their  towering  masts  they  stood  complete, 
Embodied  thoughts,  in  God's  own  dockyards  built, 
For  Drake  ere  long  to  lead  against  the  world. 
There,  as  to  round  the  tale  with  ringing  gold, 
Across  the  waters  from  the  full-plumed  Swan 
The  music  of  a  Mermaid  roundelay — 
Our  Lady  of  the  Sea,  a  Dorian  theme 
Tuned   to    the   soul   of   England — charmed  the 
moon. 

SONG 
i 

Queen  Venus  wandered  away  with  a  cry, — 

N'oserez  vous,  mon  bel  ami? — 
For  the  purple  wound  in  Aden's  thigh; 

Je  vous  en  prie,  pity  me ; 
With  a  bitter  farewell  from  sky  to  sky, 

And  a  moan — a  moan  from  sea  to  sea; 
N'oserez  vous,  mon  bel,  mon  bel, 

N'oserez  vous,  mon  bel  ami? 
52 


BOOK    II 


ii 

The  soft  JEgean  heard  her  sigh, — 

N'oserez  vous,  mon  bel  ami? — 
Heard  the  Spartan  hills  reply, 

Je  'vous  en  prie,  pity  me; 
Spain  was  aware  of  her  drawing  nigh 

Foot-gilt  from  the  blossoms  of  Italy; 
N'oserez  vous,  mon  bel,  mon  bel, 

N'oserez  vous,  mon  bel  ami? 

Ill 

In  France  they  heard  her  voice  go  by, — 

N'oserez  vous,  mon  bel  ami? — 
And  on  the  May-wind  droop  and  die, 

Je  vous  en  prie,  pity  me; 
Your  maidens  choose  their  loves,  but  I — 

White  as  I  came  from  the  foam-white  sea, 
N'oserez  vous,  mon  bel,  mon  bel, 

N'oserez  vous,  mon  bel  ami? 

IV 

The  warm  red-meal-winged  butterfly, — 
N'oserez  vous,  mon  bel  ami? — 
53 


DRAKE 


Beat  on  her  breast  in  the  golden  rye, — 

Je  vous  en  prie,  pity  me, — 
Stained  her  breast  with  a  dusty  dye 

Red  as  the  print  of  a  kiss  might  be ! 
N'oserez  vous,  mon  bel,  mon  bel, 

N'oserez  vous,  mon  bel  ami? 

v 

Is  there  no  land,  afar  or  nigh, — 

N'oserez  vous,  mon  bel  ami? — 
But  dreads  the  kiss  o'  the  sea?     Ah,  why — 

Je  vous  en  prie,  pity  me ! — 
Why  will  ye  cling  to  the  loves  that  die? 

Is  earth  all  Adon  to  my  plea? 
N'oserez  vous,  mon  bel,  mon  bel, 

N'oserez  vous,  mon  bel  ami? 

VI 

Under  the  warm  blue  summer  sky, — 
N'oserez  vous,  mon  bel  ami? — 

With  outstretched  arms  and  a  low  long  sigh,- 
Je  vous  en  prie,  pity  me; — 

Over  the  Channel  they  saw  her  fly 

54 


BOOK     II 


To  the  white-cliffed  island  that  crowns  the 

sea, 

N'oserez  vous,  mon  bel,  mon  bel, 
N'oserez  vous,  mon  bel  ami? 

VII 
England  laughed  as  her  Queen  drew  nigh,— 

N'oserez  vous,  mon  bel  ami? — 
To  the  white-walled  cottages  gleaming  high, 

Je  vous  en  prie,  pity  me! 
They  drew  her  in  with  a  joyful  cry 

To  the  hearth  where  she  sits  with  a  babe  on 

her  knee, 
She  has  turned  her  moan  to  a  lullaby, 

She  is  nursing  a  son  to  the  kings  of  the  sea, 
N'oserez  vous,  mon  bel,  mon  bel, 

N'oserez  vous,  mon  bel  ami? 

Such  memories,  on  the  plunging  Golden  Hynde, 
Under  the  stars,  Drake  drew  before  his  friend 
Doughty;  but  touched  most  briefly  on  his  great 
Voyage  to  Darien,  and  the  famous  Tree, 
And  those  wild  exploits  down  to  Rio  Grande, 

55 


DRAKE 


Which  even  now  had  made  his  fierce  renown 
Terrible  to  all  lonely  ships  of  Spain. 
E'en  now,  indeed,  that  poet  of  Portugal, 
Lope  de  Vega,  filled  with  this  new  fear 
Began  to  meditate  his  epic  muse 
Till,  like  a  cry  of  panic  from  his  lips, 
He  shrilled  the  faint  Dragontea  forth,  wherein 
Drake  is  that  Dragon  of  the  Apocalypse, 
The  dread  Antagonist  of  God  and  Man. 

Well  had  it  been  for  Doughty  on  that  night 
Had  he  not  heard  what  followed;  for,  indeed, 
When  two  minds  clash,  not  often  does  the  less 
Conquer  the  greater;  but,  without  one  thought 
Of  evil,  seeing  they  now  were  safe  at  sea, 
Drake  told  him,  only  somewhat,  yet  too  much, 
Of  that  close  conference  with  the  Queen. 

And,  lo! 

The  face  of  Doughty  blanched  with  a  slow  thought 
That  crept  like  a  cold  worm  through  all  his  brain, 
"Thus  much  I  knew,  though  secretly,  before; 
But  here  he  freely  tells  me  as  his  friend; 
If  I  am  false  and  he  is  what  they  say, 

56 


BOOK     II 


His  knowledge  of  my  knowledge  will  mean  death." 
But  Drake  looked  round  at  Doughty  with  a  smile 
And  said,  "  Forgive  me  now:  thou  art  not  used 
To  these  cold  nights  at  sea !  thou  tremblest,  friend ; 
Let  us  go  down  and  drink  a  cup  of  sack 
To  our  return !  "    And  at  that  kindly  smile 
Doughty    shook    off    his    nightmare    mood,    and 

thought, 

"  I  am  no  sea-dog,  but  a  man  of  birth! 
The  yard-arm  is  for  dogs,  not  gentlemen ! 
Even  Drake  would  not  misuse  a  man  of  birth !  " 
And  in  the  cabin  of  the  Golden  Hynde 
Revolving  subtle  treacheries  he  sat. 
There  with  the  sugared  phrases  of  the  court 
And  general  sentiments  which  Drake  believed 
Were  revelations  of  the  man's  own  mind, 
Bartering  beads  for  gold,  he  drew  out  all 
The  simple  Devon  seaman's  inmost  heart, 
And  coiled  up  in  the  soul  of  Francis  Drake. 
There  in  the  solemn  night  they  interchanged 
Lies  for  sweet  confidences.    From  one  wall 
The  picture  of  Drake's  love  looked  down  on  him; 
And,  like  a  bashful  schoolboy's,  that  bronzed  face 

57 


DRAKE 

Flushed  as  he  blurted  out  with  brightening  eyes 
And  quickening  breath  how  he  had  seen  her  first, 
Crowned  on  the  village  green,  a  Queen  of  May. 
Her  name,  too,  was  Elizabeth,  he  said, 
As  if  it  proved  that  she,  too,  was  a  queen, 
Though    crowned   with  milk-white    Devon   may 

alone, 

And  queen  but  of  one  plot  of  meadow-sweet. 
As  yet,  he  said,  he  had  only  kissed  her  hand, 
Smiled  in  her  eyes  and — there  Drake  also  blanched, 
Thinking,  "  I  ne'er  may  see  her  face  again," 
And  Doughty  comforted  his  own  dark  heart 
Thinking,  "  I  need  not  fear  so  soft  a  soul 
As  this  " ;  and  yet,  he  wondered  how  the  man, 
Seeing  his  love  so  gripped  him,  none  the  less 
Could  leave  her,  thus  to  follow  after  dreams; 
For  faith  to  Doughty  was  an  unknown  word, 
And  trustfulness  the  property  of  fools. 
At  length  they  parted,  each  to  his  own  couch, 
Doughty  with  half  a  chuckle,  Francis  Drake 
With  one  old-fashioned  richly  grateful  prayer 
Blessing  all  those  he  loved,  as  he  had  learnt 
Beside  his  mother's  knee  in  Devon  days. 

58 


BOOK     II 


So  all  night  long  they  sailed;  but  when  a  rift 
Of  orchard  crimson  broke  the  yellowing  gloom 
And  barred  the  closely  clouded  East  with  dawn, 
Behold,  a  giant  galleon  overhead, 
Lifting  its  huge  black  shining  sides  on  high, 
Loomed  like  some  misty  monster  of  the  deep : 
And,  sullenly  rolling  out  great  gorgeous  folds 
Over  her  rumbled  like  a  thunder-cloud 
The  heavy  flag  of  Spain.    The  splendid  poop, 
Mistily  lustrous  as  a  dragon's  hoard 
Seen  in  some  magic  cave-mouth  o'er  the  sea 
Through  shimmering  April  sunlight  after  rain, 
Blazed  to  the  morning;  and  her  port-holes  grinned 
With  row  on  row  of  cannon.    There  at  once 
One  sharp  shrill  whistle  sounded,  and  those  five 
Small  ships,  mere  minnows  clinging  to  the  flanks 
Of  that  Leviathan,  unseen,  unheard, 
Undreamt  of,  grappled  her.     She  seemed  asleep, 
Swinging  at  ease  with  great  half-slackened  sails, 
Majestically  careless  of  the  dawn. 
There  in  the  very  native  seas  of  Spain, 
There  with  the  yeast  and  foam  of  her  proud  cliffs, 
Her  own  blue  coasts,  in  sight  across  the  waves, 

59 


DRAKE 


Up  her  Titanic  sides  without  a  sound 
The  naked-footed  British  seamen  swarmed 
With  knives  between  their  teeth :  then  on  her  decks 
They  dropped  like  panthers,  and  the  softly  fierce 
Black-bearded  watch  of  Spaniards,  all  amazed, 
Rubbing  their  eyes  as  if  at  a  wild  dream, 
Upraised  a  sudden  shout,  El  Draque!  El  Draque! 
And  flashed  their  weapons  out,  but  all  too  late; 
For,  ere  their  sleeping  comrades  reached  the  deck, 
The  little  watch,  outnumbered  and  outmatched, 
Lay  bound,  and  o'er  the  hatches  everywhere 
The  points  of  naked  cutlasses  on  guard 
Gleamed,  and  without  a  struggle  those  below 
Gave  up  their  arms,  their  poignards  jewelled  thick 
With  rubies,  and  their  blades  of  Spanish  steel. 

Then  onward  o'er  the  great  grey  gleaming  sea 
They  swept  with  their  rich  booty,  night  and  day. 
Five  other  prizes,  one  for  every  ship, 
Out  of  the  seas  of  Spain  they  suddenly  caught 
And  carried  with  them,  laughing  as  they  went — 
"Now,  now  indeed  the  Rubicon  is  crossed; 
Now  have  we  singed  the  eyelids  and  the  beard 

60 


BOOK    II 


Of  Spain;  now  have  we  roused  the  hornet's  nest; 
Now  shall  we  sail  against  a  world  in  arms; 
Now  we  have  nought  between  us  and  black  death 
But  our  own  hands,  five  ships,   and  three  score 

guns.'* 
So  laughed  they,   plunging  through  the  bay  of 

storms, 

Biscay,  and  past  Gibraltar,  not  yet  clothed 
With  British  thunder,  though,  as  one  might  dream, 
Gazing  in  dim  prophetic  grandeur  out 
Across  the  waves  while  that  small  fleet  went  by, 
Or  watching  them  with  love's  most  wistful  fear 
As  they  plunged  Southward  to  the  lonely  coasts 
Of  Africa,  till  right  in  front  up-soared, 
Tremendous  over  ocean,  Teneriffe, 
Cloud-robed,   but   crowned   with  colours   of   the 

dawn. 

Already  those  two  traitors  were  at  work, 
Doughty  and  his  false  brother,  among  the  crews, 
Who  knew  not  yet  the  vastness  of  their  quest, 
Nor  dreamed  of   aught  beyond  the   accustomed 

world; 

For  Drake  had  kept  it  secret   and  the  thoughts 

61 


DRAKE 


Of  some  that  he  had  shipped  before  the  mast 
Set  sail  scarce  farther  than  for  Mogadore 
In  West  Morocco,  or  at  the  utmost  mark 
For  northern  Egypt,  by  the  midnight  woods 
And  crystal  palace  roofed  with  chrysoprase, 
Where  Prester  John  had  reigned  five  hundred 

years, 

And  Sydon,  river  of  jewels,  through  the  dark 
Enchanted  gorges  rolled  its  rays  along! 
Some  thought  of  Rio  Grande;  but  scarce  to  ten 
The  true  intent  was  known ;  while  to  divert 
The  rest  from  care  the  skilled  musicians  played. 
But  those  two  Doughtys  cunningly  devised 
By  chance-dropt  words  to  breathe  a  hint  abroad; 
And  through  the  foc'sles  crept  a  grisly  fear 
Of  things  that  lay  beyond  the  bourne  of  earth, 
Till  even  those  hardy  seamen  almost  quailed; 
And  now,  at  any  moment,  they  might  turn 
With  terror  in  their  eyes.    They  might  refuse 
To  sail  into  that  fabled  burning  Void 
Or  brave  that  primuw  mobile  which  drew 
O'er-daring  ships  into  the  jaws  of  hell 
Beyond  the  Pole  Antarticke,  where  the  sea 

62 


BOOK    II 


Rushed  down  through  fiery  mountains,  and  no  sail 
Could  e'er  return  against  its  roaring  stream. 
Now  down  the  coast  of  Barbary  they  cruised 
Till  Christmas  Eve  embraced  them  in  the  heart 
Of  summer.    In  a  bay  of  mellow  calm 
They  moored,  and  as  the  fragrant  twilight  brought 
The  stars,  the  sound  of  song  and  dance  arose; 
And  down  the  shores  in  stealthy  silence  crept, 
Out  of  the  massy  forest's  emerald  gloom, 
The  naked,  dark-limbed  children  of  the  night, 
Unseen,  to  gaze  upon  the  floating  glare 
Of  revelry;  unheard,  to  hear  that  strange 
New  music  of  the  gods,  where  o'er  the  soft 
Ripple  and  wash  of  the  lanthorn-crimsoned  tide 
Will  Harvest's  voice  above  the  chorus  rang. 

SONG 

In  Devonshire,  now,  the  Christmas  chime      • 

Is  carolling  over  the  lea; 
And  the  sexton  shovels  away  the  snow 

From  the  old  church  porch,  maybe; 
And   the   waits   with   their   lanthorns    and   noses 
a- glow 

63 


DRAKE 


Come  round  for  their  Christmas  fee; 
But,  as  in  old  England  it's  Christmas-time, 
Why,  so  is  it  here  at  sea, 

My  lads, 
Why,  so  is  it  here  at  sea! 

When  the  ship  comes  home,  from  turret  to  poop 

Filled  full  with  Spanish  gold, 
There'll  be  many  a  country  dance  and  joke, 

And  many  a  tale  to  be  told; 
Every  old  woman  shall  have  a  red  cloak 

To  fend  her  against  the  cold; 
And  every  old  man  shall  have  a  big  round  stoup 

Of  jolly  good  ale  and  old, 
My  lads, 

Jolly  good  ale  and  old! 

But  on  the  morrow  came  a  prosperous  wind 
Whereof  they  took  advantage,  and  shook  out 
The  flashing  sails,  and  held  their  Christmas  feast 
Upon  the  swirling  ridges  of  the  sea : 
And,  sweeping  Southward  with  full  many  a  rouse 
And  shout  of  laughter,  at  the  fall  of  day, 


BOOK    II 


While  the  black  prows  drove,  leapt,  and  plunged, 

and  ploughed 

Through  the  broad  dazzle  of  sunset-coloured  tides, 
Outside  the  cabin  of  the  Golden  Hynde, 
Where    Drake   and  his   chief   captains   dined    in 

state, 
The  skilled  musicians  made  a  great  new  song. 

SONG 

i 

Happy  by  the  hearth  sit  the  lasses  and  the  lads, 

now. 
Roasting  of  their  chestnuts,  toasting  of  their 

toes! 

When  the  door  is  opened  to  a  blithe  new-comer, 
Stamping  like  a  ploughman  to  shuffle  off  the 

snows; 

Rosy  flower-like  faces  through  the  soft  red  fire 
light 

Float  as  if  to  greet  us,  far  away  at  sea, 
Sigh    as    they   remember,    and    turn    the   sigh    to 
laughter, 

65 


DRAKE 


Kiss  beneath  the  mistletoe  and  wonder  at  their 
glee. 

With  their  "heigh  ho,  the  holly! 

This  life  is  most  jolly!" 
Christmas-time  is  kissing-time; 

Away  with  melancholy! 

II 

Ah,   the   Yule  of  England,   the  happy    Yule  of 

England, 

Yule  of  berried  holly  and  the  merry  mistletoe; 
The  boar's  head,  the  brown  ale,  the  blue  snap 
dragon, 
Yule  of  groaning  tables  and  the  crimson  log 

aglow! 
Yule,  the  golden  bugle  to  the  scattered  old 

companions, 
Ringing  as  with  laughter,  shining  as  through 

tears! 

Loved  of  little  children,  oh  guard  the  holy  Yule- 
tide, 

Guard  it,  men  of  England,  for  the  child 
beyond  the  years, 
66 


BOOK    II 


With  its  "heigh  ho,  the  holly!" 
Away  with  melancholy! 
Christmas-time  is  kissing-time, 

"This  life  is  most  jolly!" 

Now  to  the  Fortunate  Islands  of  old  time 
They  came,  and  found  no  glory  as  of  old 
Encircling  them,  no  red  ineffable  calm 
Of  sunset  round  crowned  faces  pale  with  bliss 
Like  evening  stars;  but  rugged,  waste,  and  wild 
Those  isles  were  when  they  neared  them,  though 

afar 

They  beautifully  smouldered  in  the  sun 
Like  dusky  purple  jewels  fringed  and  frayed 
With  silver  foam  across  that  ancient  sea 
Of  wonder.    On  the  largest  of  the  seven 
Drake  landed  Doughty  with  his  musketeers 
To  exercise  their  weapons  and  to  seek 
Supplies  among  the  matted  uncouth  huts 
Which,  as  the  ships  drew  round  each  ragged  cliff, 
Crept  like  remembered  misery  into  sight; 
Oh,  like  the  strange  dull  waking  from  a  dream 
They  blotted  out  the  rosy  courts  and  fair 


DRAKE 


Imagined  marble  thresholds  of  the  King 

Achilles  and  the  heroes  that  were  gone. 

But  Drake  cared  nought  for  these  things.     Such 

a  heart 

He  had,  to  make  each  utmost  ancient  bourne 
Of  man's  imagination  but  a  point 
Of  new  departure  for  his  Golden  Dream. 
But  Doughty  with  his  men  ashore,  alone, 
Among  the  sparse  wind-bitten  groves  of  palm, 
Kindled  their  fears  of  all  they  must  endure 
On  that  immense  adventure.     Nay,  sometimes 
He  hinted  of  a  voyage  far  beyond 
All  history  and  fable,  far  beyond 
Even  that  Void  whence  only  two  returned, — 
Columbus,  with  his  men  in  mutiny; 
Magellan,  who  could  only  hound  his  crew 
Onward  by  threats  of  death,  until  they  turned 
In  horror  from  the  Threat  that  lay  before, 
Preferring  to  be  hanged  as  mutineers 
Rather  than  venture  farther.     Nor  indeed 
Did  even  Magellan  at  the  last  return; 
But,  with  all  hell  around  him,  in  the  clutch 
Of  devils  died  upon  some  savage  isle 

68 


BOOK    II 


By  poisonous  black  enchantment.    Not  in  vain 
Were  Doughty's  words  on  that  volcanic  shore 
Among  the  stunted  dark  acacia  trees, 
Whose  heads,  all  bent  one  way  by  the  trade-wind, 
Pointed  Northeast  by  North,  Southwest  by  West, 
Ambiguous  sibyls  that  with  wizened  arms 
Mysteriously  declared  a  twofold  path, 
Homeward  or  onward.     But  aboard  the  ships, 
Among  the  hardier  seamen,  old  Tom  Moone, 
With  one  or  two  stout  comrades,  overbore 
All  doubts  and  questionings  with  blither  tales 
Of  how  they  sailed  to  Darien  and  heard 
Nightingales  in  November  all  night  long 
As  down  a  coast  like  Paradise  they  cruised 
Through  seas  of  lasting  summer,  Eden  isles, 
Where  birds  like  rainbows,  butterflies  like  gems, 
And  flowers  like  coloured  fires  o'er  fairy  creeks 
Floated  and  flashed  beneath  the  shadowy  palms; 
While  ever  and  anon  a  bark  canoe 
With  naked  Indian  maidens  flower-festooned 
Put  out  from  shadowy  coves,  laden  with  fruit 
Ambrosial  o'er  the  silken  shimmering  sea. 
And  once  a  troop  of  nut-brown  maidens  came — 

69 


DRAKE 


So  said  Tom  Moone,  a  twinkle  in  his  eye — 
Swimming  to  meet  them  through  the  warm  blue 

waves 
And    wantoned    through    the    water,    like    those 

nymphs 

Which  one  green  April  at  the  Mermaid  Inn 
He  heard  Kit  Marlowe  mightily  pourtray, 
Among  his  boon  companions,  in  a  song 
Of  Love  that  swam  the  sparkling  Hellespont 
Upheld  by  nymphs,  not  lovelier  than  these, — 
Though  whiter  yet  not  lovelier  than  these; 
For  those  like  flowers,  but  these  like  rounded  fruit 
Rosily  ripening  through  the  clear  tides  tossed 
From  nut-brown  breast  and  arm  all  round  the  ship 
The  thousand-coloured  spray.     Shapely  of  limb 
They  were;  but  as  they  laid  their  small  brown 

hands 

Upon  the  ropes  we  cast  them,  Captain  Drake 
Suddenly  thundered  at  them  and  bade  them  pack 
For  a  troop  of  naughty  wenches  I     At  that  tale 
A  tempest  of  fierce  laughter  rolled  around 
The  foc'sle;  but  one  boy  from  London  town, 
A  pale-faced  prentice,  run-away  to  sea, 

70 


BOOK    II 


Asking  why  Drake  had  bidden  them  pack  so  soon, 
Tom   Moone   turned  to   him  with   his   deep-sea 

growl, 

"  Because  our  Captain  is  no  pink-eyed  boy 
Nor  soft-limbed  Spaniard,  but  a  staunch-souled 

Man, 

Full-blooded;  nerved  like  iron;  with  a  girl 
He  loves  at  home  in  Devon;  and  a  mind 
For  ever  bent  upon  some  mighty  goal, 
I  know  not  what — but  'tis  enough  for  me 
To  know  my  Captain  knows."    And  then  he  told 
How  sometimes  o'er  the  gorgeous  forest  gloom 
Some  marble  city,  rich,  mysterious,  white, 
An  ancient  treasure-house  of  Aztec  kings, 
Or  palace  of  forgotten  Incas  gleamed; 
And  in  their  dim  rich  lofty  cellars  gold, 
Beyond  all  wildest  dreams,  great  bars  of  gold, 
Like  pillars,  tossed  in  mighty  chaos,  gold 
And  precious  stones,  agate  and  emerald, 
Diamond,  sapphire,  ruby,  and  sardonyx. 
So  said  he,  as  they  waited  the  return 
Of  Doughty,  resting  in  the  foc'sle  gloom, 
Or  idly  couched  about  the  sun-swept  decks 


DRAKE 


On  sails  or  coils  of  rope,  while  overhead 
Some  boy  would  climb  the  rigging  and  look  out, 
Arching  his  hand  to  see  if  Doughty  came. 
But  when  he  came,  he  came  with  a  strange  face 
Of  feigned  despair;  and  with  a  stammering  tongue 
He  vowed  he  could  not  find  those  poor  supplies 
Which  Drake  himself  in  other  days  had  found 
Upon  that  self-same  island.     But,  perchance, 
This  was  a  barren  year,  he  said.     And  Drake 
Looked  at  him,  suddenly,  and  at  the  musketeers. 
Their  eyes  were  strained;  their  faces  wore  a  cloud. 
That  night  he  said  no  more;  but  on  the  morn, 
Mistrusting  nothing,  Drake  with  subtle  sense 
Of  weather-wisdom,  through  that  little  fleet 
Distributed  his  crews  anew.    And  all 
The  prisoners  and  the  prizes  at  those  isles 
They  left  behind  them,  taking  what  they  would 
From  out  their  carven  cabins, — glimmering  silks, 
Chiselled  Toledo  blades,  and  broad  doubloons. 
And,  lo!  as  they  weighed  anchor,   far  away 
Behind  them  on  the  blue  horizon  line 
It  seemed  a  city  of  towering  masts  arose; 
And  from  the  crow's  nest  of  the  Golden  Hynde 

72 


BOOK     II 


A  seaman  cried,  "By  God;  the  hunt  is  up!" 
And  like  a  tide  of  triumph  through  their  veins 
The  red  rejoicing  blood  began  to  race 
As  there  they  saw  the  avenging  ships  of  Spain, 
Eight  mighty  galleons,  nosing  out  their  trail. 
And  Drake  growled,  "  Oh,  my  lads  of  Bideford, 
It  cuts  my  heart  to  show  the  hounds  our  heels; 
But  we  must  not  imperil  our  great  quest! 
Such  fights  as  that  must  wait — as  our  reward 
When  we  return.    Yet  I  will  not  put  on 
One  stitch  of  sail.    So,  lest  they  are  not  too  slow 
To  catch  us,  clear  the  decks.    God,  I  should  like 
To  fight  them !  "    So  the  little  fleet  advanced 
With  decks  all  cleared  and  shotted  guns  and  men 
Bare-armed  beside  them,  hungering  to  be  caught, 
And  quite  distracted  from  their  former  doubts; 
For  danger,  in  that  kind,  they  never  feared. 
But  soon  the  heavy  Spaniards  dropped  behind; 
And  not  in  vain  had  Thomas  Doughty  sown 
The  seeds  of  doubt;  for  many  a  brow  grew  black 
With  sullen-seeming  care  that  erst  was  gay. 
But  happily  and  in  good  time  there  came, 
Not  from  behind  them  now,  but  right  in  front, 

73 


DRAKE 


On  the  first  sun-down  of  their  quest  renewed, 

Just  as  the  sea  grew  dark  around  their  ships, 

A   chance    that   loosed   heart-gnawing   doubt    in 

deeds. 

For  through  a  mighty  zone  of  golden  haze 
Blotting  the  purple  of  the  gathering  night 
A  galleon  like  a  floating  mountain  moved 
To  meet  them,  clad  with  sunset  and  with  dreams. 
Her  masts  and  spars  immense  in  jewelled  mist 
Shimmered :  her  rigging,  like  an  emerald  web 
Of  golden  spiders,  tangled  half  the  stars! 
Embodied  sunset,  dragging  the  soft  sky 
O'er  dazzled  ocean,  through  the  night  she  drew 
Out  of  the  unknown  lands ;  and  round  a  prow 
That  jutted  like  a  moving  promontory 
Over  a  cloven  wilderness  of  foam, 
Upon  a  lofty  blazoned  scroll  her  name 
San  Salvador  challenged  obsequious  isles 
Where'er  she  rode;  who  kneeling  like  dark  slaves 
Before  some  great  Sultan  must  lavish  forth 
From  golden  cornucopias,  East  and  West, 
Red  streams  of  rubies,  cataracts  of  pearl. 
But,  at  a  signal  from  their  admiral,  all 

74 


BOOK    II 


Those  five  small  ships  lay  silent  in  the  gloom 
Which,  just  as  if  some  god  were  on  their  side, 
Covered  them  in  the  dark  troughs  of  the  waves, 
Letting  her  pass  to  leeward.    On  she  came, 
Blazing  with  lights,  a  City  of  the  Sea, 
Belted  with  crowding  towers  and  clouds  of  sail, 
And  round  her  bows  a  long-drawn  thunder  rolled 
Splendid  with  foam;  but  ere  she  passed  them  by, 
Drake  gave  the  word,  and  with  one  crimson  flash 
Two  hundred  yards  of  black  and  hidden  sea 
Leaped  into  sight  between  them  as  the  roar 
Of  twenty  British  cannon  shattered  the  night. 
Then  after  her  they  drove,  like  black  sea-wolves 
Behind  some  royal  high-branched  stag  of  ten, 
Hanging  upon  those  bleeding  foam-flecked  flanks, 
Leaping,  snarling,  worrying,  as  they  went 
In  full  flight  down  the  wind ;  for  those  light  ships 
Much  speedier  than  their  huge  antagonist, 
Keeping  to  windward,  worked  their  will  with  her. 
In  vain  she  burnt  wild  lights  and  strove  to  scan 
The  darkening  deep.    Her  musketeers  in  vain 
Provoked  the  crackling  night  with  random  fires : 
In  vain  her  broadside  bellowings  burst  at  large, 

75 


DRAKE 


As  if  the  Gates  of  Erebus  unrolled. 
For  ever  and  anon  the  deep-sea  gloom 
From  some  new  quarter,  like  a  dragon's  mouth 
Opened  and  belched  forth  crimson  flames  and  tore 
Her  sides  as  if  with  iron  claws  unseen; 
Till,  all  at  once,  rough  voices  close  at  hand 
Out  of  the  darkness  thundered,  "  Grapple  her !  " 
And,  falling  on  their  knees,  the  Spaniards  knew 
The  Dragon  of  that  red  Apocalypse. 
There  with  one  awful  cry,  ElDraquet  El  Draque! 
They  cast  their  weapons  from  them ;  for  the  moon 
Rose,  eastward,  and  against  her  rising  black 
Over  the  bloody  bulwarks  Francis  Drake, 
Grasping  the  great  hilt  of  his  naked  sword, 
Towered  for  a  moment  to  their  startled  eyes 
Through  all  the  zenith  like  the  King  of  Hell. 
Then  he  leaped  down  upon  their  shining  decks, 
And  after  him  swarmed  and  towered  and  leapt  in 

haste 

A  brawny  band  of  three  score  Englishmen, 
Gigantic  as  they  loomed  against  the  sky 
And  risen,  it  seemed,  by  miracle  from  the  sea. 
So  small  were  those  five  ships  below  the  walls 

76 


BOOK    II 


Of  that  huge  floating  mountain.     Royally 
Drake,    from   the  swart  commander's   trembling 

hands 

Took  the  surrendered  sword,  and  bade  his  men 
Gather  the  fallen  weapons  on  an  heap, 
And  placed  a  guard  about  them,  while  the  moon 
Silvering  the  rolling  seas  for  many  a  mile 
Glanced  on  the  huddled  Spaniards'  rich  attire, 
As  like  one  picture  of  despair  they  grouped 
Under  the  splintered  main-mast's  creaking  shrouds, 
And  the  great  swinging  shadows  of  the  sails 
Mysteriously  swept  the  gleaming  decks; 
Where  many  a  butt  of  useless  cannon  gloomed 
Along  the  accoutred  bulwarks  or  upturned, 
As  the  ship  wallowed  in  the  heaving  deep, 
Dumb  mouths  of  empty  menace  to  the  stars. 

Then  Drake  appointed  Doughty,  with  a  guard, 

To  sail  the  prize  on  to  the  next  dim  isle 

Where  they  might  leave  her,  taking  aught  they 

would 

From  out  her  carven  cabins  and  rich  holds. 
And  Doughty's  heart  leaped  in  him  as  he  thought, 

77 


DRAKE 


"  I  have  my  chance  at  last";  but  Drake,  who  still 
Trusted  the  man,  made  surety  doubly  sure, 
And  in  his  wary  weather-wisdom  sent — 
Even  as  a  breathing  type  of  friendship,  sent — 
His  brother,  Thomas  Drake,  aboard  the  prize; 
But  set  his  brother,  his  own  flesh  and  blood, 
Beneath  the  man,  as  if  to  say,  "  I  give 
My  loyal  friend  dominion  over  me." 
So  courteously  he  dealt  with  him ;  but  he, 
Seeing  his  chance  once  more  slipping  away, 
Raged  inwardly  and,  from  his  own  false  heart 
Imputing  his  own  evil,  he  contrived 
A  cunning  charge  that  night ;  and  when  they  came 
Next  day,  at  noon,  upon  the  destined  isle, 
He  suddenly  spat  the  secret  venom  forth, 
With  such  fierce  wrath  in  his  defeated  soul 
That  he  himself  almost  believed  the  charge. 
For  when  Drake  stepped  on  the  San  Salvador 
To  order  all  things  duly  about  the  prize, 
What  booty  they  must  keep  and  what  let  go, 
Doughty  received  him  with  a  blustering  voice 
Of  red  mock-righteous  wrath,  "  Is  this  the  way 
Englishmen  play  the  pirate,  Francis  Drake? 

78 


BOOK    II 


While  thou  wast  dreaming  of  thy  hero's  crown — 
God  save  the  mark ! — thy  brother,  nay,  thy  spy, 
Must  play  the  common  pilferer,  must  convert 
The  cargo  to  his  uses,  rob  us  all 
Of  what  we  risked  our  necks  to  win :  he  wears 
The  ransom  of  an  emperor  round  his  throat 
That  might  enrich  us  all.    Who  saw  him  wear 
That  chain  of  rubies  ere  last  night?  " 

And  Drake, 

"Answer  him,  brother";  and  his  brother  smiled 
And  answered,  "  Nay,  I  never  wore  this  chain 
Before  last  night;  but  Doughty  knows,  indeed, 
For  he  was  with  me — and  none  else  was  there 
But  Doughty — 'tis  my  word  against  his  word, 
That  close  on  midnight  we  were  summoned  down 
To  an  English  seaman  who  lay  dying  below 
Unknown  to  any  of  us,  a  prisoner 
In  chains,  that  had  been  captured  none  knew  where, 
For  all  his  mind  was  far  from  Darien, 
And  wandering  evermore  through  Devon  lanes 
At  home;  whom  we  released;  and -from  his  waist 
He  took  this  hidden  chain  and  gave  it  me, 
Begging  me  that  if  ever  I  returned 

79 


DRAKE 


To  Bideford  in  Devon  I  would  go 
With  whatsoever  wealth  it  might  produce 
To  his  old  mother,  who,  with  wrinkled  hands 
In  some  small  white-washed  cottage  o'er  the  sea, 
Where  wall-flowers  bloom  in  April,  even  now 
Is  turning  pages  of  the  well-worn  Book 
And  praying  for  her  son's  return,  nor  knows 
That  he  lies  cold  upon  the  heaving  main. 
But  this  he  asked;  and  this  in  all  good  faith 
I  swore  to  do;  and  even  now  he  died, 
And  hurrying  hither  from  his  side  I  clasped 
His  chain  of  rubies  round  my  neck  awhile, 
In  full  sight  of  the  sun.    I  have  no  more 
To  say."    Then  up  spoke  Hatton's  trumpeter : 
"  But  I  have  more  to  say.    Last  night  I  saw 
Doughty,  but  not  in  full  sight  of  the  sun, 
Nor  once,  nor  twice,  but  three  times  at  the  least, 
Carrying  chains  of  gold,  clusters  of  gems, 
And  whatsoever  wealth  he  could  convey 
Into  his  cabin  and  smuggle  in  smallest  space." 
"  Nay,"  Doughty  stammered,  mixing  sneer  and  lie, 
Yet  bolstering  up  his  courage  with  the  thought 
That  being  what  courtiers  called  a  gentleman 

80 


BOOK    II 


He  ranked  above  the  rude  sea-discipline, 

"  Nay,  they  were  free  gifts  from  the  Spanish  crew 

Because  I  treated  them  with  courtesy." 

Then  bluff  Will  Harvest,  "  That  perchance  were 

true, 

For  he  hath  been  close  closeted  for  hours 
With  their  chief  officers,  drinking  their  health 
In  our  own  war-bought  wine,  while  down  below 
Their  captured  English  seaman  groaned  his  last." 
Then  Drake,  whose  utter  silence,  with  a  sense 
Of  infinite  power  and  justice,  ruled  their  hearts, 
Suddenly  thundered — and  the  traitor  blanched 
And  quailed  before  him.     "This  my  flesh  and 

blood 

I  placed  beneath  thee  as  my  dearer  self! 
But  thou,  in  trampling  on  him,  shalt  not  say 
I  charge  thy  brother.    Nay,  thou  chargest  me ! 
Against  me  only  hast  thou  stirred  this  strife; 
And  now,  by  God,  shalt  thou  learn,  once  for  all, 
That  I,  thy  captain  for  this  voyage,  hold 
The  supreme  power  of  judgment  in  my  hands. 
Get  thee  aboard  my  flagship !    When  I  come 
I  shall  have  more  to  say  to  thee;  but  thou, 

81 


DRAKE 


My  brother,  take  this  galleon  in  thy  charge; 
For,  as  I  see,  she  holdeth  all  the  stores 
Which  Doughty  failed  to  find.    She  shall  return 
With  us  to  that  New  World  from  which  she  came. 
But  now  let  these  our  prisoners  all  embark 
In  yonder  pinnace;  let  them  all  go  free. 
I  care  not  to  be  cumbered  on  my  way 
Through  dead  Magellan's  unattempted  dream 
With  chains  and  prisoners.    In  that  Golden  World 
Which  means  much  more  to  me  than  I  can  speak, 
Much   more,   much  more  than   I  can  speak  or 

breathe, 

Being,  behind  whatever  name  it  bears — 
Earthly  Paradise,  Island  of  the  Saints, 
Cathay,  or  Zipangu,  or  Hy  Brasil — 
The  eternal  symbol  of  my  soul's  desire, 
A  sacred  country  shining  on  the  sea, 
That  Vision  without  which,  the  wise  king  said, 
A  people  perishes;  in  that  place  of  hope, 
That  Tirn'an  Og,  that  land  of  lasting  youth, 
Where  whosoever  sails  with  me  shall  drink 
Fountains  of  immortality  and  dwell 
Beyond  the  fear  of  death  for  evermore, 

82 


BOOK    II 


There  shall  we  see  the  dust  of  battle  dance 
Everywhere  in  the  sunbeam  of  God's  peace! 

/ 

Oh,  in  the  new  Atlantis  of  my  soul 

There  are  no  captives:  there  the  wind  blows  free; 

And,  as  in  sleep,  I  have  heard  the  marching  song 

Of  mighty  peoples  rising  in  the  West, 

Wonderful  cities  that  shall  set  their  foot 

Upon  the  throat  of  all  old  tyrannies; 

And  on  the  West  wind  I  have  heard  a  cry, 

The  shoreless  cry  of  the  prophetic  sea 

Heralding  through  that  golden  wilderness 

The  Soul  whose  path  our  task  is  to  make  straight, 

Freedom,  the  last  great  Saviour  of  mankind. 

I  know  not  what  I  know :  these  are  wild  words, 

Which  as  the  sun  draws  out  earth's  morning  mists 

Over  dim  fields  where  careless  cattle  sleep, 

Some  visionary  Light,  unknown,  afar, 

Draws  from  my  darkling  soul.     Why  should  we 

drag 

Thither  this  Old-World  weight  of  utter  gloom, 
Or  with  the  ballast  of  these  heavy  hearts 
Make  sail  in  sorrow  for  Pacific  Seas? 
Let  us  leave  chains  and  prisoners  to  Spain; 

83 


DRAKE 


But  set  these  free  to  make  their  own  way  home !  " 
So  said  he,  groping  blindly  towards  the  truth, 
And  heavy  with  the  treason  of  his  friend. 
His  face  was  like  a  king's  face  as  he  spake, 
For  sorrows  that  strike  deep  reveal  the  deep; 
And  through  the  gateways  of  a  ragged  wound 
Sometimes  a  god  will  drive  his  chariot  wheels 
From  some  deep  haven  within  the  hearts  of  men. 
Nevertheless,  the  immediate  seamen  there 
Knowing  how  great  a  ransom  they  might  ask 
For  some  among  their  prisoners,  men  of  wealth 
And  high  degree,  scarce  liked  to  free  them  thus; 
And  only  saw  in  Drake's  conflicting  moods 
The  moment's  whim.    "  For  little  will  he  care," 
They  muttered,    "when  we  reach  those   fabled 

shores, 

Whether  his  cannon  break  their  golden  peace." 
Yet  to  his  face  they  murmured  not  at  all; 
Because  his  eyes  compelled  them  like  a  law. 
So  there  they  freed  the  prisoners  and  set  sail 
Across  the  earth-shaking  shoulders  of  the  broad 
Atlantic,  and  the  great  grey  slumbrous  waves 
Triumphantly  swelled  up  to  meet  the  keels. 


BOOK    III 

NOW  in  the  cabin  of  the  Golden  Hynde 
At  dusk,    Drake  sent  for  Doughty. 
From  one  wall 
The  picture  of  his  love  looked  down 

on  him; 

'~\ 

And  on  the  table  lay  the  magic  chart, 

Drawn  on  a  buffalo  horn,  all  small  peaked  isles, 

Dwarf  promontories,  tiny  twisted  creeks, 

And  fairy  harbours  under  elfin  hills, 

With  marvellous  inscriptions  lined  in  red, — 

As  Here  is  Gold,  or  Many  Rubies  Here, 

Or  Ware  Witch-crafte,  or  Here  is  Cannibals. 

For  in  his  great  simplicity  the  man 

Delighted  in  it,  with  the  adventurous  heart 

Of  boyhood  poring  o'er  some  well-thumbed  tale 

On  blue  Twelfth  Night  beside  the  crimson  fire; 

And  o'er  him,  like  the  vision  of  a  boy 

In  his  first  knighthood  when,  upon  some  hill 

Washed  by  the  silver  fringes  of  the  sea, 


DRAKE 


Amidst  the  purple  heather  he  lies  and  reads 

Of  Arthur  and  Avilion,  like  a  star 

His  love's  pure  face  looked  down.    There  Doughty 

came, 

Half  fearful,  half  defiant,  with  a  crowd 
Of  jostling  half-excuses  on  his  lips, 
And  one  dark  swarm  of  adders  in  his  heart. 
For  now  what  light  of  chivalry  remained 
In  Doughty's  mind  was  thickening  with  a  plot, 
Subtler  and  deadlier  than  the  serpent's  first 
Attempt  on  our  first  sire  in  Eden  bower. 
Drake,  with  a  countenance  open  as  the  sun, 
Received  him,  saying:    "  Forgive  me,  friend,  for  I 
Was  hasty  with  thee.     I  wellnigh  forgot 
Those  large  and  liberal  nights  we  two  have  passed 
In  this  old  cabin,  telling  all  our  dreams 
And  hopes,  in  friendship,  o'er  and  o'er  again. 
But  Vicary,  thy  lawyer  friend,  hath  been 
Pleading  with  me;  and  now  I  understand 
All;  so  forgive, — for  thou  art  hasty  too, 
And  hast  said  things  in  passion  which,  'fore  God, 
I  would  not  take  from  other  men  alive. 
But  now — I  understand.    Thou  shalt  no  more 

86 


BOOK    III 


Be  vexed  with  a  divided  mastership. 

Indeed,  I  trust  thee,  Doughty;  against  all 

Appearances  I  trust  thee.    Wilt  thou  not 

Be  friends  with  me?     For  now  in  ample  proof 

Thou  shalt  take  charge  of  this  my  Golden  Hynde 

In  all  things,  save  of  seamanship,  which  rests 

With  the  ship's  master  under  my  command. 

But  I  myself  will  sail  upon  the  prize." 

And  with  the  word  he  gathered  up  the  chart, 

Took  down  his  lady's  picture  with  a  smile, 

Gripped  Doughty's  hand  and  left  him,  staring, 

sheer 

Bewildered  with  that  magnanimity 
Of  faith,  throughout  all  shadows,  in  some  light 
Unseen  behind  the  shadows.    Thus  did  Drake 
Give  up  his  own  fair  cabin  which  he  loved; 
Being,  it  seemed,  a  little  travelling  home, 
Fragrant  with  memories, — gave  it,  as  he  thought, 
In  recompense  to  one  whom  he  had  wronged. 
For  even  as  his  mind  must  ever  yearn 
To  shores  beyond  the  sunset,  even  so 
He  yearned  through  all  dark  shadows  to  his  friend, 
And  with  his  greater  nature  striving  still 

87 


DRAKE 


To  comprehend  the  lesser,  as  the  sky 
Embraces  our  low  earth,  he  would  adduce 
Justifications,  thus:     "These  men  of  law 
Are  trained  to  plead  for  any  and  every  cause, 
To  feign  an  indignation,  or  to  prove 
The  worse  is  better  and  that  black  is  white! 
Small  wonder  that  their  passion  goes  astray: 
Ah  God,  there  is  one  prayer  for  all  of  us — 
Enter  not  into  judgment  with  Thy  servant!" 

Yet  as  his  boat  pulled  tow'rd  the  Spanish  prize 
Leaving  the  Golden  Hynde,  far  off  he  heard 
A  voice  that  chilled  him,  as  the  voice  of  Fate 
Crying  like  some  old  Bellman  through  the  world. 

SONG 
Yes;  oh,  yes;  if  any  seek 

Laughter  flown  or  lost  delight, 
Glancing  eye  or  rosy  cheek, 

Love  shall  claim1  his  own  to-night! 
Say,  hath  any  lost  a  friend? 
Yes;  oh,  yes! 
Let  his  distress 
In  my  ditty  find  its  end. 
88 


BOOK    III 


Yes;  oh,  yes;  here  all  is  found! 

Kingly  palaces  await 
Each  its  rightful  owner,  crowned 

King  and  consecrate, 
Under  the  wet  and  wintry  ground! 
Yes;  oh,  yes! 
There  sure  redress 
Lies  where  all  is  lost  and  found. 

And  Doughty,  though  Drake's  deed  of  kindness 

flashed  ^ 

A  moment's  kind  contrition  through  his  heart, 
Immediately,  with  all  his  lawyer's  wit, 
True  to  the  cause  that  hired  him,  laughed  it  by, 
And  straight  began  to  weave  the  treacherous  web 
Of  soft  intrigue  wherein  he  meant  to  snare 
The  passions  of  his  comrades.    Night  and  day, 
As  that  small  fleet  drove  onward  o'er  the  deep, 
Cleaving  the  sunset  with  their  bright  black  prows 
Or  hunted  by  the  red  pursuing  Dawn, 
He  stirred  between  the  high-born  gentlemen 
(Whose  white  and  jewelled  hands,  gallant  in  fight, 
And  hearts  remembering  Crecj  and  Poictiers, 

89 


DRAKE 

Were  of  scant  use  in  common  seamanship), 
Between  these  and  the  men  whose  rough  tarred 

arms 

Were  good  at  equal  need  in  storm  or  war, 
Yet  took  a  poorer  portion  of  the  prize, 
He  stirred  a  subtle  jealousy  and  fanned 
A  fire  that  swiftly  grew  almost  to  hate. 
For  when  the  seamen  must  take  precedence 
Of  loiterers  on  the  deck — through  half  a  word, 
Small,  with  intense  device,  like  some  fierce  lens, 
He  magnified  their  rude  and  blustering  mode ; 
Or  urged  some  scented  fop,  whose  idle  brain 
Busied  itself  with  momentary  whims, 
To  bid  the  master  alter  here  a  sail, 
Or  there  a  rope;  and,  if  the  man  refused, 
Doughty,  at  night,  across  the  wine-cups,  raved 
Against  the  rising  insolence  of  the  mob ; 
And  hinted  Drake  himself  was  half  to  blame, 
In  words  that  seemed  to  say,  "  I  am  his  friend, 
Or  I  should  bid  you  think  him  all  to  blame." 
So  fierce  indeed  the  strife  became  that  once, 
While  Chester,  Doughty's  catspaw,  played  with 

fire, 

90 


BOOK     III 


The  grim  ship-master  growled  between  his  teeth, 
"  Remember,  sir,  remember,  ere  too  late, 
Magellan's  mutinous  vice-admiral's  end." 
And  Doughty  heard,  and  with  a  boisterous  laugh 
Slapped  the  old  sea-dog  on  the  back  and  said, 
'The  gallows  are  for  dogs,  not  gentlemen !" 
Meanwhile  his  brother,  sly  John  Doughty,  sought 
To  fan  the  seamen's  fear  of  the  unknown  world 
With  whispers  and  conjectures;  and,  at  night, 
He  brought  old  books  of  Greek  and  Hebrew  down 
Into  the  foc'sle,  claiming  by  their  aid 
A  knowledge  of  Black  Art,  and  power  to  tell 
The  future,  which  he  dreadfully  displayed 
There  in  the  flickering  light  of  the  oily  lamp, 
Bending  above  their  huge  and  swarthy  palms 
And  tracing  them  to  many  a  grisly  doom. 

So  many  a  night  and  day  westward  they  plunged. 
The  half-moon  ripened  to  its  mellow  round, 
Dwindled   again   and   ripened  yet   again. 
And  there  was  nought  around  them  but  the  grey 
Ruin  and  roar  of  huge  Atlantic  seas. 
And  only  like  a  memory  of  the  world 


DRAKE 


They  left  behind  them  rose  the  same  great  sun, 
And  daily  rolled  his  chariot  through  their  sky, 
Whereof  the  skilled  musicians  made  a  song. 

SONG 

The  same  sun  is  o'er  us, 

The  same  Love  shall  find  us, 
The  same  and  none  other, 

Wherever  we  be; 
With  the  same  goal  before  us, 
The  same  home  behind  us, 
England,  our  mother, 

Ringed  round  with  the  sea. 

When  the  breakers  charged  thundering 
In  thousands  all  round  us 
With  a  lightning  of  lances 

Uphurtled  on  high, 
When  the  stout  ships  were  sundering 
A  rapture  hath  crowned  us, 
Like  the  wild  light  that  dances 
On  the  crests  that  flash  by. 
92 


BOOK     III 


When  the  waters  lay  breathless 
Gazing  at  Hesper 
Guarding  the  golden 

Fruit  of  the  tree, 
Heard  we  the  deathless 
Wonderful  whisper 
Wafting  the  olden 
Dream  of  the  sea. 

No  land  in  the  ring  of  it 
Now,  all  around  us 
Only  the  splendid 

Resurging  unknown ! 
How  should  we  sing  of  it? — 
This  that  hath  found  us 
By  the  great  sun  attended 
In  splendour,  alone. 

Ah !  the  broad  miles  of  it, 
White  with  the  onset 

Of  waves  without  number 

Warring  for  glee. 
Ah !  the  soft  smiles  of  it 
93 


DRAKE 


Down  to  the  sunset, 
Holy  for  slumber, 
The  peace  of  the  sea. 

The  wave's  heart,  exalted, 
Leaps  forward  to  meet  us, 
The  sun  on  the  sea-wave 

Lies  white  as  the  moon : 
The  soft  sapphire-vaulted 

Deep  heaven  smiles  to  greet  us, 
Free  sons  of  the  free-wave 
All  singing  one  tune. 

\The  same  sun  is  o'er  us, 

The  same  Love  shall  find  us, 
The  same  and  none  other, 

Wherever  we  be; 

With  the  same  goal  before  us, 

The  same  home  behind  us, 

England,  our  mother, 

Queen  of  the  sea. 

At  last  a  faint-flushed  April  Dawn  arose 
With  milk-white  arms  upbinding  golden  clouds 

94 


BOOK    III 


Of  fragrant  hair  behind  her  lovely  head; 
And,  lo!  before  the  bright  black  plunging  prows 
The  whole  sea  suddenly  shattered  into  shoals 
Of  rolling  porpoises.     Everywhere  they  tore 
The  glittering  water.     Like  a  moving  crowd 
Of  black  bright  rocks  washed  smooth  by  foaming 

tides, 

They  thrilled  the  unconscious  fancy  of  the  crews 
With  subtle,  wild,  and  living  hints  of  land. 
And  soon  Columbus'  happy  signals  came, 
The  signs  that  saved  him  when  his  mutineers 
Despaired  at  last  and  clamoured  to  return, — 
And  there,  with  awe  triumphant  in  their  eyes, 
They  saw,  lazily  tossing  on  the  tide, 
A  drift  of  seaweed  and  a  berried  branch, 
Which  silenced  them  as  if  they  had  seen  a  Hand 
Writing  with  fiery  letters  on  the  deep. 
Then  a  black  cormorant,  vulture  of  the  sea, 
With   neck   outstretched  and  one  long  ominous 

honk, 

Went  hurtling  past  them  to  its  unknown  bourne. 
A  mighty  white-winged  albatross  came  next; 
Then  flight  on  flight  of  clamorous  clanging  gulls; 

95 


DRAKE 


And  last,  a  wild  and  sudden  shout  of  "  Land! " 
Echoed  from  crew  to  crew  across  the  waves. 
Then,  dumb  upon  the  rigging  as  they  hung 
Staring  at  it,  a  menace  chilled  their  blood. 
For  like  //  Gran  Nemlco  of  Dante,  dark, 
Ay,  coloured  like  a  thunder-cloud,  from  North 
To  South,  in  front,  there  slowly  rose  to  sight 
A  country  like  a  dragon  fast  asleep 
Along  the  West,  with  wrinkled,  purple  wings 

Ending  in  ragged  forests  o'er  its  spine; 

\ 

And  with  great  craggy  claws  out-thrust,  that  turned 
(As  the  dim  distances  dissolved  their  veils) 
To  promontories  bounding  a  huge  bay. 
There  o'er  the  hushed  and  ever  shallower  tide 
The  staring  ships  drew  nigh  and  thought,  "  Is  this 
The  Dragon  of  our  Golden  Apple  Tree, 
The  guardian  of  the  fruit  of  our  desire, 
Which  grows  in  gardens  of  the  Hesperides, 
Where  those  three  sisters  weave  a  white-armed 

dance 

Around  it  everlastingly,  and  sing 
Strange  songs  in  a  strange  tongue  that  still  convey 
Warning  to  heedful  souls?"     Nearer  they  drew, 

96 


BOOK    III 


And  now,  indeed,  from  out  a  soft  blue-grey 
Mingling  of  colours  on  that  coast's  deep  flank 
There  crept  a  garden  of  enchantment,  height 
O'er  height,  a  garden  sloping  from  the  hills, 
Wooded  as  with  Aladdin's  trees  that  bore 
All-coloured  clustering  gems  instead  of  fruit; 
Now  vaster  as  it  grew  upon  their  eyes, 
And  like  some  Roman  amphitheatre 
Cirque  above  mighty  cirque  all  round  the  bay, 
With  jewels  and  flowers  ablaze  on  women's  breasts 
Innumerably  confounded  and  confused; 
While  lovely  faces  flushed  with  lust  of  blood, 
Rank  above  rank  upon  their  tawny  thrones 
In  soft  barbaric  splendour  lapped,  and  lulled 
By  the  low  thunderings  of  a  thousand  lions, 
Luxuriously  smiled  as  they  bent  down 
Over  the  scarlet-splashed  and  steaming  sands 
To  watch  the  white-limbed  gladiators  die. 

Such  fears  and  dreams  for  Francis  Drake,  at  least, 
Rose  and  dissolved  in  his  nigh  fevered  brain 
As  they  drew  near  that  equatorial  shore; 
For  rumours  had  been  borne  to  him;  and  now 

97 


DRAKE 

He  knew  not  whether  to  impute  the  wrong 
To  his  untrustful  mind  or  to  believe 
Doughty  a  traitorous  liar;  for  the  sense 
Of  his  own  friendship  towards  him  made  it  hard 
To  understand  that  treachery;  yet  there  seemed 
Proof  and  to  spare.    A  thousand  shadows  rose 
To  mock  him  with  their  veiled  indicative  hands. 
And  each  alone  he  laid  and  exorcised 
With  ease;  but  ah,  not  all,  not  all  at  once. 
And  for  each  doubt  he  banished,  one  returned 
From  darker  depths  to  mock  him  o'er  again. 

So,  in  that  bay,  the  little  fleet  sank  sail 

And  anchored;  and  the  wild  reality 

Behind  those  dreams  towered  round  them  on  the 

hflls, 

Or  so  it  seemed.    And  Drake  bade  lower  a  boat, 
And  went  ashore  with  sixteen  men  to  seek 
Water;  and,  as  they  neared  the  embowered  beach, 
Over  the  green  translucent  tide  there  came, 
A  hundred  yards  from  land,  a  drowsy  sound 
Immeasurably  repeated  and  prolonged, 
As  of  innumerable  elfin  drums 

98 


BOOK     III 


Dreamily  mustering  in  the  tropic  bloom. 
This  from  without  they  heard,  across  the  waves ; 
But  when  they  glided  into  a  flowery  creek 
Under  the  sharp  black  shadows  of  the  trees — 
Jaca  and  Mango  and  Palm  and  red  festoons 
Of  garlanded  Liana  wreaths — it  ebbed 
Into  the  murmur  of  the  mighty  fronds, 
Prodigious  leaves  whose  veinings  bore  the  fresh 
Impression  of  the  finger-prints  of  God. 
There  humming-birds,  like  flakes  of  purple  fire 
Upon  some  passing  seraph's  plumage,  beat 
And  quivered  in  blinding  blots  of  golden  light 
Between  the  embattled  cactus  and  cardoon; 
While  one  huge  whisper  of  primaeval  awe 
Seemed  to  await  the  cool  green  eventide 
When  God  should  walk  His  Garden  as  of  old. 
Now  as  the  boats  were  plying  to  and  fro 
Between  the  ships  and  that  enchanted  shore, 
Drake  bade  his  comrades  tarry  a  little  and  went 
Apart,  alone,  into  the  trackless  woods. 
Tormented  with  his  thoughts,  he  saw  all  round 
Once  more  the  battling  image  of  his  mind, 
Where  there  was  nought  of  man,  only  the  vast 

99 


DRAKE 


Unending  silent  struggle  of  Titan  trees, 
Large  internecine  twistings  of  the  world, 
The  hushed  death-grapple  and  the  still  intense 
Locked  anguish  of  Laocoons  that  gripped 
Death  by  the  throat  for  thrice  three  hundred  years. 
Once,  like  a  subtle  mockery  overhead, 
Some  black-armed  chattering  ape  swung  swiftly  by, 
But  he  strode  onward,  thinking — "  Was  it  false, 
False  all  that  kind  outreaching  of  the  hands? 
False?    Was  there  nothing  certain,  nothing  sure 
In  those  divinest  aisles  and  towers  of  Time 
Wherein  we  took  sweet  counsel  ?     Is  there  nought 
Sure  but  the  solid  dust  beneath  our  feet? 
Must  all  those  lovelier  fabrics  of  the  soul, 
Being  so  divinely  bright  and  delicate, 
Waver  and  shine  no  longer  than  some  poor 
Prismatic  aery  bubble?    Ay,  they  burst, 
And  all  their  glory  shrinks  into  one  tear 
No  bitterer  than  some  idle  love-lorn  maid 
Sheds  for  her  dead  canary.    God,  it  hurts, 
This,  this  hurts  most,  to  think  how  we  must  miss 
What  might  have  been,  for  nothing  but  a  breath, 
A  babbling  of  the  tongue,  an  argument, 

100 


BOOK    III 


Or  such  a  poor  contention  as  involves ' 
The  thrones  and  dominations  of  this  earth, — 
How  many  of  us,  like  seed  on  barren- grcfund, •'  < 
Must  miss  the  flower  and  harvest  of  their  prayers, 
The  living  light  of  friendship  and  the  grasp 
Which  for  its  very  meaning  once  implied 
Eternities  of  utterance  and  the  life 
Immortal  of  two  souls  beyond  the  grave?  " 

Now,  wandering  upward  ever,  he  reached  and 

clomb 

The  slope  side  of  a  fern-fringed  precipice, 
And,  at  the  summit,  found  an  open  glade, 
Whence,  looking  o'er  the  forest,  he  beheld 
The  sea ;  and,  in  the  land-locked  bay  below, 
Far,  far  below,  his  elfin-tiny  ships, 
All  six  at  anchor  on  the  crawling  tide! 
Then  onward,  upward,  through  the  woods  once 

more 

He  plunged  with  bursting  heart  and  burning  brow; 
And,  once  again,  like  madness,  the  black  shapes 
Of  doubt  swung  through  his  brain  and  chattered 

and  laughed, 

101 


DRAKE 


.Till  he  upptretched  his  arms  in  agony 

And  cursed  the  name  of  Doughty,  cursed  the  day 

They-  met,   eurscd   his    false    face   and   courtier 

smiles; 

"  For  oh,"  he  cried,  "  how  easy  a  thing  it  were 
For  truth  to  wear  the  garb  of  truth !    This  proves 
His  treachery!  "    And  there,  at  once,  his  thoughts 
Tore  him  another  way,  as  thus,  "  And  yet 
If  he  were  false,  is  he  not  subtle  enough 
To  hide  it?    Why,  this  proves  his  innocence — 
This  very  courtly  carelessness  which  I, 
Black-hearted  evil-thinker  as  I  am, 
In  my  own  clumsier  spirit  so  misjudge! 
These  children  of  the  court  are  butterflies 
Fluttering  hither  and  thither,  and  I — poor  fool — 
Would  fix  them  to  a  stem  and  call  them  flowers, 
Nay,  bid  them  grasp  the  ground-like  towering  oaks 
And  shadow  all  the  zenith ;  "  and  yet  again 
The  madness  of  distrustful  friendship  gleamed 
From  his  fierce  eyes,  "  Oh,  villain,  damned  villain, 
God's  murrain  on  his  heart !    I  know  full  well 
He  hides  what  he  can  hide !    He  wears  no  fault 
Upon  the  gloss  and  frippery  of  his  breast ! 

102 


BOOK     III 


It  is  not  that !     It  is  the  hidden  things, 
Unseizable,  the  things  I  do  not  know: 
Ay,  it  is  these,  these,  these  and  these  alone 
That  I  mistrust." 

And,  as  he  walked,  the  skies 
Grew  full  of  threats,  and  now  enormous  clouds 
Rose  mammoth-like  above  the  ensanguined  deep, 
Trampling  the  daylight  out;  and,  with  its  death 
Dyed  purple,  rushed  along  as  if  they  meant 
To  obliterate  the  world.     He  took  no  heed. 
Though    that    strange    blackness    brimmed    the 

branching  aisles 

With  horror,  he  strode  on  till  in  the  gloom, 
Just  as  his  winding  way  came  out  once  more 
Over  a  precipice  that  o'erlooked  the  bay, 
There,  as  he  went,  not  gazing  down,  but  up, 
He  saw  what  seemed  a  ponderous  granite  cliff, 
A  huge  ribbed  shell  upon  a  lonely  shore 
Left  by  forgotten  mountains  when  they  sank 
Back  to  earth's  breast  like  billows  on  a  sea. 
A  tall  and  whispering  crowd  of  tree-ferns  waved 
Mysterious  fringes  round  it.     In  their  midst 
He  flung  himself  at  its  broad  base,  with  one 

103 


DRAKE 


Sharp  shivering  cry  of  pain,  "  Show  me  Thy  ways, 
O  God,  teach  me  Thy  paths !  I  am  in  the  dark ! 
Lighten  my  darkness !  " 

Almost  as  he  spoke 

There  swept  across  the  forest,  far  and  wide, 
Gathering  power  and  volume  as  it  came, 
A  sound  as  of  a  rushing  mighty  wind; 
And,  overhead,  like  great  black  gouts  of  blood 
Wrung  from  the  awful  forehead  of  the  Night 
The  first  drops  fell  and  ceased.    Then,  suddenly, 
Out  of  the  darkness,  earth  with  all  her  seas, 
Her  little  ships  at  anchor  in  the  bay 
(Five  ebony  ships  upon  a  sheet  of  silver, 
Drake  saw  not  that,  indeed,  Drake  saw  not  that !) , 
Her  woods,  her  boughs,  her  leaves,  her  tiniest 

twigs, 

Leapt  like  a  hunted  stag  through  one  immense 
Lightning  of  revelation  into  the  murk 
Of  Erebus :  then  heaven  o'er  rending  heaven 
Shattered  and  crashed  down  ruin  over  the  world. 
But,  in  that  deeper  darkness,  Francis  Drake 
Stood  upright  now,  and  with  blind  outstretched 

arms 

Groped  at  that  strange  forgotten  cliff  and  shell 

104 


BOOK    III 


Of  mystery;  for  in  that  flash  of  light 
^Eons  had  passed;  and  now  the  Thing  in  front 
Made  his  blood  freeze  with  memories  that  lay 
Behind  his  Memory.    In  the  gloom  he  groped, 
And  with  dark  hands  that  knew  not  what  they 

knew, 

As  one  that  shelters  in  the  night,  unknowing, 
Beneath  a  stranded  shipwreck,  with  a  cry 
He  touched  the  enormous  rain-washed  belted  ribs 
And  bones  like  battlements  of  some  Mastodon 
Embedded  there  until  the  trump  of  doom. 

After  long  years,  long  centuries,  perchance, 
Triumphantly  some  other  pioneer 
Would  stand  where  Drake  now  stood  and  read  the 
tale 

X 

Of  ages  where  he  only  felt  the  cold 
Touch  in  the  dark  of  some  huge  mystery; 
Yet  Drake  might  still  be  nearer  to  the  light 
Who  now  was  whispering  from  his  great  deep 

heart, 
"  Show  me   Thy  ways,   O   God,   teach  me  Thy 

paths!" 

And  there  by  some  strange  instinct,  oh,  he  felt 

105 


DRAKE 


God's  answer  there,  as  if  he  grasped  a  hand 

Across  a  gulf  of  twice  ten  thousand  years ; 

And  he  regained  his  lost  magnificence 

Of  faith  in  that  great  Harmony  which  resolves 

Our  discords,  faith  through  all  the  ruthless  laws 

Of  nature  in  their  lovely  pitilessness, 

Faith  in  that  Love  which  outwardly  must  wear, 

Through  all  the  sorrows  of  eternal  change, 

The  splendour  of  the  indifference  of  God. 

All  round  him  through  the  heavy  purple  gloom 

Sloped  the  soft  rush  of  silver-arrowed  rain, 

Loosening  the  skies'  hard  anguish  as  with  tears. 

Once  more  he  felt  his  unity  with  all 

The  vast  composure  of  the  universe, 

And  drank  deep  at  the  fountains  of  that  peace 

Which  comprehends  the  tumult  of  our  days. 

But  with  that  peace  the  power  to  act  returned; 

And,  with  his  back  against  the  Mastodon, 

He  stared  through  the  great  darkness  tow'rds  the 

sea. 

The  rain  ceased  for  a  moment :  only  the  slow 
Drip  of  the  dim  droop-feathered  palms  all  round 

106 


BOOK     III 


Deepened  the  hush. 

Then,  out  of  the  gloom  once  more 
The  whole  earth  leapt  to  sight  with  all  her  woods, 
Her  boughs,  her  leaves,  her  tiniest  twigs  distinct 
For  one  wild  moment;  but  Drake  only  saw 
The  white  flash  of  her  seas,  and  there,  oh  there 
That  land-locked  bay  with  those  five  elfin  ships, 
Five  elfin  ebony  ships  upon  a  sheet 
Of  wrinkled  silver !     Then,  as  the  thunder 

followed, 
One  thought  burst  through  his  brain — 

Where  was  the  sixth? 
Over  the  grim  precipitous  edge  he  hung, 
An  eagle  waiting  for  the  lightning  now 
To  swoop  upon  his  prey.    One  iron  hand 
Gripped  a  rough  tree-root  like  a  bunch  of  snakes; 
And,  as  the  rain  rushed  round  him,  far  away 
He  saw  to  northward  yet  another  flash, 
A  scribble  of  God's  finger  in  the  sky 
Over  a  waste  of  white  stampeding  waves. 
His  eye  flashed  like  a  falchion  as  he  saw  it, 
And  from  his  lips  there  burst  the  sea-king's  laugh ; 
For  there,  with  a  fierce  joy  he  knew,  he  knew 

107 


DRAKE 


Doughty,  at  last — an  open  mutineer! 

An  open  foe  to  fight !    Ay,  there  she  went, — 

His  Golden  Hynde,  his  little  Golden  Hynde 

A  wild  deserter  scudding  to  the  North. 

And,  almost  ere  the  lightning,  Drake  had  gone 

Crashing  down  the  face  of  the  precipice, 

By  a  narrow  water-gully,  and  through  the  huge 

Forest  he  tore  the  straight  and  perilous  way 

Down  to   the   shore;  while,   three  miles  to  the 

North, 

Upon  the  wet  poop  of  the  Golden  Hynde 
Doughty  stood  smiling.     Scarce  would  he  have 

smiled 

Knowing  that  Drake  had  seen  him  from  that  tower 
Amidst  the  thunders ;  but,  indeed,  he  thought 
He  had  escaped  unseen  admidst  the  storm. 
Many  a  day  he  had  worked  upon  the  crew, 
Fanning  their  fears  and  doubts  until  he  won 
The   more   part   to   his   side.     And   when   they 

reached 
That  coast,  he  showed  them  how  Drake  meant  to 

sail 

Southward,  into  the  unknown  Void;  but  he 

108 

fr :  \  " 


BOOK    III 


Would  have  them  suddenly  slip  by  stealth  away 
Northward  to  Darien,  showing  them  what  a  life 
Of  golden  glory  waited  for  them  there, 
If,  laying  aside  this  empty  quest,  they  joined 
The  merry  feasters  round  those  island  fires 
Which  over  many  a  dark-blue  creek  illumed 
Buccaneer  camps  in  scarlet  logwood  groves, 
Fringing  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  till  dawn 
Summoned  the  Black  Flags  out  to  sweep  the  sea. 

But  when  Drake  reached  the  flower-embowered 

boat 

And  found  the  men  awaiting  his  return 
There,  in  a  sheltering  grove  of  bread-fruit  trees 
Beneath  great  eaves  of  leafage  that  obscured 
Their  sight,  but  kept  the  storm  out,  as  they  tossed 
Pieces  of  eight  or  rattled  the  bone  dice, 
His  voice  went  through  them  like  a  thunderbolt, 
For  none  of  them  had  seen  the  Golden  Hynde 
Steal  from  the  bay;  and  now  the  billows  burst 
Like  cannon  down  the  coast;  and  they  had  thought 
Their  boat  could  not  be  launched  until  the  storm 
Abated.     Under  Drake's  compelling  eyes, 

109 


DRAKE 


Nevertheless,  they  poled  her  down  the  creek 
Without  one  word,  waiting  their  chance. 

Then  all 

Together  with  their  brandished  oars  they  thrust, 
And  on  the  fierce  white  out-draught  of  a  wave 
They  shot  up,  up  and  over  the  toppling  crest 
Of  the  next,  and  plunged  crashing  into  the  vale 
Behind  it:  then  they  settled  at  their  thwarts, 
And  the  fierce  water  boiled  before  their  blades 
As,  with  Drake's  iron  hand  upon  the  helm, 
They  soared  and  crashed  across  the  rolling  seas. 

Not  for  the  Spanish  prize  did  Drake  now  steer, 
But  for  that  little  ship  the  Mary  gold, 
Swiftest  of  sail,  next  to  the  Golden  Hynde, 
And,  in  the  hands  of  Francis  Drake,  indeed 
Swiftest  of  all;  and  ere  the  seamen  knew 
What  power,  as  of  a  wind,  bore  them  along, 
Anchor  was  up,  their  hands  were  on  the  sheets, 
The  sails  were  broken  out,  the  Mary  gold 
Was  flying  like  a  storm-cloud  to  the  North, 
And  on  her  poop  an  iron  statue  still 
As  death  stood  Francis  Drake. 

no 


BOOK    III 


One  hour  they  rushed 

Northward,  with  green  seas  washing  o'er  the  deck 
And  buffeted  with  splendour;  then  they  saw 
The  Golden  Hynde  like  some  wing-broken  gull 
With  torn  mismanaged  plumes  beating  the  air 
In  peril  of  utter  shipwreck;  saw  her  fly 
Half-mast,  a  feeble  signal  of  distress 
Despite  all  Doughty's  curses;  for  her  crew 
With  wild  divisions  torn  amongst  themselves 
Most  gladly  now  surrendered  in  their  hearts, 
As  close  alongside  grandly  onward  swept 
The  Mary  gold,  with  canvas  trim  and  taut 
Magnificently  drawing  the  full  wind, 
Her  gunners  waiting  at  their  loaded  guns 
Bare-armed  and  silent;  and  that  iron  soul 
Alone,  upon  her  silent  quarter-deck. 
There  they  hauled  up  into  the  wind  and  lay 
Rocking,  while  Drake,  alone,  without  a  guard, 
Boarding  the  runaway,  dismissed  his  boat 
Back  to  the  Marygold.     Then  his  voice  outrang 
Trumpet-like  o'er  the  trembling  mutineers, 
And  clearly,  as  if  they  were  but  busied  still 
About  the  day's  routine.    They  hid  their  shame, 

in 


DRAKE 


As  men  that  would  propitiate  a  god, 

By  flying  to  fulfil  his  lightest  word; 

And  ere  they  knew  what  power,  as  of  a  wind 

Impelled  them — that  half  wreck  was  trim  and 

taut, 

Her  sails  all  drawing  and  her  bows  af oam ; 
And,  creeping  past  the  Marygold  once  more, 
She  led  their  Southward  way!     And  not  till  then 
Did  Drake  vouchsafe  one  word  to  the  white  face 
Of  Doughty,  as  he  furtively  slunk  nigh 
With  some  new  lie  upon  his  fear-parched  lips 
Thirsting  for  utterance  in  his  crackling  laugh 
Of  deprecation;  and  with  one  ruffling  puff 
Of  pigeon  courage  in  his  blinded  soul — 
"I  am  no  sea-dog — even  Francis  Drake 
Would  scarce  misuse  a  gentleman.     Thank  God 
I  am  a  gentleman! "     And  there  Drake  turned 
And  summoned  four  swart  seamen  out  by  name. 
His  words  went  like  a  cold  wind  through  their 

flesh 

As  with  a  passionless  voice  he  slowly  said, 
*  Take  ye  this  fellow :  bind  him  to  the  mast 
Until  what  time  I  shall  decide  his  fate." 

112 


BOOK    III 


And   Doughty   gasped  as   at   the  world's  blank 

end, — 

"  Nay,  Francis,"  cried  he,  "  wilt  thou  thus  misuse 
A  gentleman?"     But  as  the  seamen  gripped 
His  arms  he  struggled  vainly  and  furiously 
To  throw  them  off ;  and  in  his  impotence 
Let  slip  the  whole  of  his  treacherous  cause  and 

hope 
In  empty  wrath, — "  Fore  God,"  he  foamed  and 

snarled, 

"  Ye  shall  all  smart  for  this  when  we  return! 
Unhand  me,  dogs !    I  have  Lord  Burleigh's  power 
Behind  me.    There  is  nothing  I  have  done 
Without  his  warrant !    Ye  shall  smart  for  this ! 
Unhand  me,  I  say,  unhand  me  1 " 

And  in  one  flash 

Drake  saw  the  truth,  and  Doughty  saw  his  eyes 
Lighten  upon  him;  and  his  false  heart  quailed 
Once  more;  and  he  suddenly  suffered  himself 
Quietly,  strangely,  to  be  led  away 
And  bound  without  a  murmur  to  the  mast. 
And  strangely  Drake  remembered,  as  those  words, 
"  Ye  shall  all  smart  for  this  when  we  return," 


DRAKE 


Yelped  at  his  faith,  how  while  the  Dover  cliffs 
Faded  from  sight  he  leaned  to  his  new  friend 
Doughty  and  said:    "  I  blame  them  not  who  stay! 
I  blame  them  not  at  all  who  cling  to  home, 
For  many  of  us,  indeed,  shall  not  return, 
Nor  ever  know  that  sweetness  any  more." 

And  when  they  had  reached  their  anchorage  anew, 
Drake,  having  now  resolved  to  bring  his  fleet 
Beneath  a  more  compact  control,  at  once 
Took  all  the  men  and  the  chief  guns  and  stores 
From  out  the  Spanish  prize ;  and  sent  Tom  Moone 
To  set  the  hulk  afire.    Also  he  bade 
Unbind  the  traitor  and  ordered  him  aboard 
The  pinnace  Christopher.     John  Doughty,  too, 
He  ordered  thither,  into  the  grim  charge 
Of  old  Tom  Moone,  thinking  it  best  to  keep 
The  poisonous  leaven  carefully  apart 
Until  they  had  won  well  Southward,  to  a  place 
Where,  finally  committed  to  their  quest, 
They  might  arraign  the  traitor  without  fear 
Or  favour,  and  acquit  him  or  condemn. 
But  those  two  brothers,  doubting  as  the  false 

114 


WILLIAM  CECIL,  LORD  BURLEIGH 

Front  the  Original  Painting  by  Mark  Gerard 


BOOK     III 


Are  damned  to  doubt,  saw  murder  in  his  eyes, 
And  thought  "  He  means  to  sink  the  smack  one 

night," 

And  they  refused  to  go,  till  Drake  abruptly 
Ordered  them  straightway  to  be  slung  on  board 
With  ropes. 

The  daylight  waned;  but  ere  the  sun 
Sank,  the  five  ships  were  plunging  to  the  South ; 
For  Drake  would  halt  no  longer,  lest  the  crews  . 
Also  should  halt  betwixt  two  purposes. 
He  took  the  tide  of  fortune  at  the  flood; 
And  onward  through  the  now  subsiding  storm, 
Ere  they  could  think  what  power  as  of  a  wind 
Impelled  them,  he  had  swept  them  on  their  way. 
Far,  far  into  the  night  they  saw  the  blaze 
That  leapt  in  crimson  o'er  the  abandoned  hulk 
Behind  them,  like  a  mighty  hecatomb 
Marking  the  path  of  some  Titanic  will. 
Many  a  night  and  day  they  Southward  drove. 
Sometimes  at  midnight  round  them  all  the  sea 
Quivered  with  witches'  oils  and  water-snakes, 
Green,  blue,  and  red,  with  lambent  tongues  of  fire. 
Mile  upon  mile  about  the  blurred  black  hulls 

115 


DRAKE 

A  cauldron  of  tempestuous  colour  coiled. 
On  every  mast  mysterious  meteors  burned, 
And  from  the  shores  a  bellowing  rose  and  fell 
As  of  great  bestial  gods  that  walked  all  night 
Through  some  wild  hell  unknown,  too  vast  for 

men; 

But  when  the  silver  and  crimson  of  the  dawn 
Broke  out,  they  saw  the  tropic  shores  anew, 
The  fair  white  foam,  and,  round  about  the  rocks, 
Weird  troops  of  tusked  sea-lions;  and  the  world 
Mixed  with  their  dreams  and  made  them  stranger 

still. 

And,  once,  so  fierce  a  tempest  scattered  the  fleet 
That  even  the  hardiest  souls  began  to  think 
There  was  a  Jonah  with  them ;  for  the  seas 
Rose  round  them  like  green  mountains,  peaked  and 

ridged 

With  heights  of  Alpine  snow  amongst  the  clouds ; 
And  many  a  league  to  Southward,  when  the  ships 
Gathered  again  amidst  the  sinking  waves 
Four  only  met.    The  ship  of  Thomas  Drake 
Was  missing;  and  some  thought  it  had  gone  down 
With  all  hands  in  the  storm.    But  Francis  Drake 

116 


BOOK    III 


Held  on  his  way,  learning  from  hour  to  hour 
To  merge  himself  in  immortality; 
Learning  the  secret  of  those  pitiless  laws 
Which  dwarf  all  mortal  grief,  all  human  pain, 
To  something  less  than  nothing  by  the  side 
Of  that  eternal  travail  dimly  guessed, 
Since  first  he  felt  in  the  miraculous  dark 
The  great  bones  of  the  Mastodon,  that  hulk 
Of  immemorial  death.    He  learned  to  judge 
The  passing  pageant  of  this  outward  world 
As  by  the  touch-stone  of  that  memory; 
Even  as  in  that  country  which  some  said 
Lay  now  not  far,  the  great  Tezcucan  king, 
Resting  his  jewelled  hand  upon  a  skull, 
And  on  a  smouldering  glory  of  jewels  throned 
There  in  his  temple  of  the  Unknown  God 
Over  the  host  of  Aztec  princes,  clad 
In  golden  hauberks  gleaming  under  soft 
Surcoats  of  green  or  scarlet  feather-work, 
Could  in  the  presence  of  a  mightier  power 
Than  life  or  death  give  up  his  guilty  sons, 
His  only  sons,  to  the  sacrificial  sword. 
And  hour  by  hour  the  soul  of  Francis  Drake, 

117 


DRAKE 


Unconscious  as  an  oak-tree  of  its  growth, 
Increased  in  strength  and  stature  as  he  drew 
Earth,  heaven,   and  hell  within  him,  more  and 

more. 

For  as  the  dream  we  call  our  world,  with  all 
Its  hues  is  but  a  picture  in  the  brain, 
So  did  his  soul  enfold  the  universe 
With  gradual  sense  of  superhuman  power, 
While  every  visible  shape  within  the  vast 
Horizon  seemed  the  symbol  of  some  thought 
Waiting  for  utterance.    He  had  found  indeed 
God's  own  Nirvana,  not  of  empty  dream 
But  of  intensest  life !     Nor  did  he  think 
Aught  of  all  this;  but,  as  the  rustic  deems 
The  colours  that  he  carries  in  his  brain 
Are  somehow  all  outside  him  while  he  peers 
Unaltered  through  two  windows  in  his  face, 
Drake  only  knew  that  as  the  four  ships  plunged 
Southward,  the  world  mysteriously  grew 
More  like  a  prophet's  vision,  hour  by  hour, 
Fraught  with  dark  omens  and  significances, 
A  world  of  hieroglyphs  and  sacred  signs 
Wherein  he  seemed  to  read  the  truth  that  lay 

118 


BOOK    III 


Hid  from  the  Roman  augurs  when  of  old 
They  told  the  future  from  the  flight  of  birds. 
How  vivid  with  disaster  seemed  the  flight 
Of  those  blood-red  flamingoes  o'er  the  dim 
Blue  steaming  forest,  like  two  terrible  thoughts 
Flashing,  unapprehended,  through  his  brain! 

And  now,  as  they  drove  Southward,  day  and  night, 
Through  storm  and  calm,  the  shores  that  fleeted  by 
Grew  wilder,  grander,  with  his  growing  soul, 
And  pregnant  with  the  approaching  mystery. 
And  now  along  the  Patagonian  coast 
They  cruised,  and  in  the  solemn  midnight  saw 
Wildernesses  of  shaggy,  barren  marl, 
Petrified  seas  of  lava,  league  on  league, 
Craters  and  bouldered  slopes  and  granite  cliffs 
With  ragged  rents,  grim  gorges,  deep  ravines, 
And  precipice  on  precipice  up-piled 
Innumerable  to  those  dim  distances 
Where,  over  valleys  hanging  in  the  clouds, 
Gigantic  mountains  and  volcanic  peaks 
Catching  the  wefts  of  cirrhus  fleece  appeared 
To  smoke  against  the  sky,  though  all  was  now 

119 


DRAKE 


Dead  as  that  frozen  chaos  of  the  moon, 
Or  some  huge  passion  of  a  slaughtered  soul 
Prostrate  under  the  marching  of  the  stars. 

At  last,  and  in  a  silver  dawn,  they  came 
Suddenly  on  a  broad-winged  estuary, 
And,  in  the  midst  of  it,  an  island  lay. 
There  they  found  shelter,  on  its  leeward  side, 
And  Drake  convened  upon  the  Golden  Hynde 
His   dread   court-martial.     Two  long  hours   he 

heard 

Defence  and  accusation,  then  broke  up 
The  conclave,  and,  with  burning  heart  and  brain, 
Feverishly  seeking  everywhere  some  sign 
To  guide  him,  went  ashore  upon  that  isle, 
And,  lo !  turning  a  rugged  point  of  rock, 
He  rubbed  his  eyes  to  find  out  if  he  dreamed, 
For  there — a  Crusoe's  wonder,  a  miracle, 
A  sign — before  him  stood  on  that  lone  strand 
Stark,  with  a  stern  arm  pointing  out  his  way 
And  jangling  still  one  withered  skeleton, 
The  grim  black  gallows  where  Magellan  hanged 
His  mutineers.     Its  base  was  white  with  bones 

1 20 


BOOK     III 


Picked  by  the  gulls,  and  crumbling  o'er  the  sand 
A  dread  sea-salt,  dry  from  the  tides  of  time. 
There,  on  that  lonely  shore,  Death's  finger-post 
Stood  like  some  old  forgotten  truth  made  strange 
By  the  long  lapse  of  many  memories, 
All  starting  up  in  resurrection  now 
As  at  the  trump  of  doom,  heroic  ghosts 
Out  of  the  cells  and  graves  of  his  deep  brain 
Reproaching  him.    "  Were  this  man  not  thy  friend, 
Ere  now  he  should  have  died  the  traitor's  death. 
What  wilt  thou  say  to  the  others  if  they,  too, 
Prove  false?    Or  wilt  thou  slay  the  lesser  and  save 
The  greater  sinner?    Nay,  if  thy  right  hand 
Offend  thee,  cut  it  of!  "  And,  in  one  flash, 
Drake  saw  his  path  and  chose  it. 

With  a  voice 

Low  as  the  passionless  anguished  voice  of  Fate 
That  comprehends  all  pain,  but  girds  it  round 
With  iron,  lest  some  random  cry  break  out 
For  man's  misguidance,  he  drew  all  his  men 
Around  him,  saying,  "  Ye  all  know  how  I  loved 
Doughty,  who  hath  betrayed  me  twice,  and  thrice, 
For  I  still  trusted  him :  he  was  no  felon 

121 


DRAKE 


That  I  should  turn  my  heart  away  from  him ! 
He  is  the  type  and  image  of  man's  laws; 
While  I — am  lawless  as  the  soul  that  still 
Must  sail  and  seek  a  world  beyond  the  worlds, 
A  law  behind  earth's  laws.     I  dare  not  judge  !^ 
But  ye — who  know  the  mighty  goal  we  seek, 
Who  have  seen  him  sap  our  courage,  hour  by  hour, 
Till  God  Himself  almost  appeared  a  dream 
Behind  his  technicalities  and  doubts 
Of  aught  he  could  not  touch  or  handle;  ye 
Who  have  seen  him  stir  up  jealousy  and  strife 
Between  our  seamen  and  our  gentlemen, 
Even  as  the  world  stirs  up  continual  strife, 
Bidding  the  man  forget  he  is  a  man 
With  God's  own  patent  of  nobility; 
Ye  who  have  seen  him  strike  this  last  sharp  blow — 
Sharper  than  any  enemy  hath  struck, — 
Ay,  Jonathan,  mine  own  familiar  friend, 
He  whom  I  trusted,  he  alone  could  strike 
So  sharply,  for  indeed  I  loved  this  man. 
Judge  ye — for  see,  I  cannot.    Do  not  doubt 
I  loved  this  man! 

But  now,  if  ye  will  let  him  have  his  life, 

122 


BOOK     III 


Oh,  speak !    But,  if  ye  think  it  must  be  death, 
Hold   up   your   hands   in   silence!"      His  voice 

dropped, 

And  eagerly  he  whispered  forth  one  word 
Beyond  the  scope  of  Fate — "  Yet,  oh,  my  friends, 
I  would  not  have  him  die !  "    There  was  no  sound 
Save  the  long  thunder  of  eternal  seas, — 
Drake  bowed  his  head  and  prayed. 

Then,  suddenly, 

One  man  upheld  his  hand ;  and,  all  at  once, 
A  brawny  forest  of  brown  arms  arose 
In  silence,  and  the  great  sea  whispered  Death. 

There,  with  one  big  swift  impulse,  Francis  Drake 
Held  out  his  right  sun-blackened  hand  and  gripped 
The  hand  that  Doughty  proffered  him ;  and,  lo ! 
Doughty  laughed  out  and  said,  "  Since  I  must  die, 
Let  us  have  one  more  hour  of  comradeship, 
One  hour  as  old  companions.    Let  us  make 
A  feast  here,  on  this  island,  ere  I  go 
Where  there  is  no  more  feasting."    So  they  made 
A  great  and  solemn  banquet  as  the  day 
Decreased;  and  Doughty  bade  them  all  unlock 

123 


DRAKE 


Their  sea-chests  and  bring  out  their  rich  array. 
There,  by  that  wondering  ocean  of  the  West, 
In  crimson  doublets,  lined  and  slashed  with  gold, 
In  broidered  lace  and  double  golden  chains 
Embossed  with  rubies  and  great  cloudy  pearls 
They  feasted,  gentleman  adventurers, 
Drinking  old  malmsey,  as  the  sun  sank  down. 

j 

Now  Doughty,  fronting  the  rich  death  of  day, 
And  flourishing  a  silver  pouncet-box 
With  many  a  courtly  jest  and  rare  conceit, 
There  as  he  sat  in  rich  attire,  outbraved 
The  rest.    Though  darker-hued,  yet  richer  far, 
His  murrey-coloured  doublet  double-piled 
Of  Genoa  velvet,  puffed  with  ciprus,  shone; 
For  over  its  grave  hues  the  gems  that  bossed 
His  golden  collar,  wondrously  relieved, 
Blazed  lustrous  to  the  West  like  stars.  But  Drake 
Wore  simple  black,  with  midnight  silver  slashed, 
And,  at  his  side,  a  great  two-handed  sword. 
At  last  they  rose,  just  as  the  sun's  last  rays 
Rested  upon  the  heaving  molten  gold 
Immeasurable.    The  long  slow  sigh  of  the  waves 

124 


BOOK    III 


That  creamed  across  the  lonely  time-worn  reef 
All  round  the  island  seemed  the  very  voice 
Of  the  Everlasting:  black  against  the  sea 
The  gallows  of  Magellan  stretched  its  arm 
With  that  gaunt  skeleton  and  its  rusty  chain 
Creaking  and  swinging  in  the  solemn  breath 
Of  eventide  like  some  strange  pendulum 
Measuring  out  the  moments  that  remained. 
There  did  they  take  the  holy  sacrament 
Of  Jesus'  body  and  blood.     Then  Doughty  and 

Drake 

Kissed  each  other,  as  brothers,  on  the  cheek; 
And    Doughty   knelt;    and   Drake,    without   one 

word, 

Leaning  upon  the  two-edged  naked  sword 
Stood  at  his  side,  with  iron  lips,  and  eyes 
Full  of  the  sunset ;  while  the  doomed  man  bowed 
His  head  upon  a  rock.    The  great  sun  dropped 
Suddenly,  and  the  land  and  sea  were  dark; 
And  as  it  were  a  sign,  Drake  lifted  up 
The  gleaming  sword.     It  seemed  to  sweep  the 

heavens 

Down  in  its  arc  as  he  smote,  once,  and  no  more. 

125 


DRAKE 

Then,  for  a  moment,  silence  froze  their  veins, 

Till  one  fierce  seaman  stooped  with  a  hoarse  cry; 

And,  like  an  eagle  clutching  up  its  prey, 

His  arm  swooped  down  and  bore  the  head  aloft, 

Gorily  streaming,  by  the  long  dark  hair; 

And  a  great  shout  went  up,  "  So  perish  all 

Traitors  to  God  and  England ! "     Then  Drake 

turned 

And  bade  them  to  their  ships;  and,  wondering, 
They  left  him.    As  the  boats  thrust  out  from  shore 
Brave  old  Tom  Moone  looked  back  with  faithful 

eyes 

Like  a  great  mastiff  to  his  master's  face. 
He,  looming  larger  from  his  loftier  ground 
Clad  with  the  slowly  gathering  night  of  stars 
And  gazing  seaward  o'er  his  quiet  dead, 
Seemed  like  some  Titan  bronze  in  grandeur  based 
Unshakeable  until  the  crash  of  doom 
Shattered  the  black  foundations  of  the  world. 


BOOK    IV 

DAWN,  everlasting  and  almighty  Dawn, 
Hailed   by   ten    thousand   names    of 
death  and  birth, 

Who,  chiefly  by  thy  name  of  Sorrow, 
seem'st 

To  half  the  world  a  sunset,  God's  great  Dawn, 
Fair  light  of  all  earth's  partings  till  we  meet 
Where  Dawn  and  sunset,  mingling  East  and  West, 
Shall  make  in  some  deep  Orient  of  the  soul 
One  radiant  Rose  of  Love  for  evermore; 
Teach  me,  oh  teach  to  bear  thy  broadening  light, 
Thy  deepening  wonder,  lest  as  old  dreams  fade 
With  love's  unfaith,  like  wasted  hours  of  youth 
And  dim  illusions  vanish  in  thy  beam, 
Their  rapture  and  their  anguish  break  that  heart 
Which  loved  them,  and  must  love  for  ever  now. 
Let  thy  great  sphere  of  splendour,  ring  by  ring 
For  ever  widening,  draw  new  seas,  new  skies, 
Within  my  ken;  yet,  as  I  still  must  bear 
This  love,  help  me  to  grow  in  spirit  with  thee. 

127 


DRAKE 


Dawn  on  my  song  which  trembles  like  a  cloud 
Pierced  with  thy  beauty.    Rise,  shine,  as  of  old 
Across  the  wondering  ocean  in  the  sight 
Of  those  world-wandering  mariners,  when  earth 
Rolled  flat  up  to  the  Gates  of  Paradise, 
And  each  slow  mist  that  curled  its  gold  away 
From  each  new  sea  they  furrowed  into  pearl 
Might  bring  before  their  blinded  mortal  eyes 
God  and  the  Glory.    Lighten  as  on  the  soul 
Of  him  that  all  night  long  in  torment  dire, 
Anguish  and  thirst  unceasing  for  thy  ray 
Upon  that  lonely  Patagonian  shore 
Had  lain  as  on  the  bitterest  coasts  of  Hell. 
For  all  night  long,  mocked  by  the  dreadful  peace 
Of  world-wide  seas  that  darkly  heaved  and  sank 
With  cold  recurrence,  like  the  slow  sad  breath 
Of  a  fallen  Titan  dying  all  alone 
In  lands  beyond  all  human  loneliness, 
While  far  and  wide  glimmers  that  broken  targe 
Hurled  from  tremendous  battle  with  the  gods, 
And,  as  he  breathes  in  pain,  the  chain-mail  rings 
Round  his  broad  breast  a  muffled  rattling  make 
For  many  a  league,  so  seemed  the  sound  of  waves 

128 


BOOK    IV 


Upon  those  beaches — there,  be-mocked  all  night, 
Beneath  Magellan's  gallows,  Drake  had  watched 
Beside  his  dead;  and  over  him  the  stars 
Paled  as  the  silver  chariot  of  the  moon 
Drove,  and  her  white  steeds  ramped  in  a  fury  of 

foam 

On  splendid  peaks  of  cloud.    The  Golden  Hynde 
Slept  with  those  other  shadows  on  the  bay. 
Between  him  and  his  home  the  Atlantic  heaved; 
And,  on  the  darker  side,  across  the  strait 
Of  starry  sheen  that  softly  rippled  and  flowed 
Betwixt  the  mainland  and  his  isle,  it  seemed 
Death's   Gates   indeed   burst  open.      The   night 

yawned 
Like  a  foul  wound.     Black  shapes  of  the  outer 

dark 

Poured  out  of  forests  older  than  the  world; 
And,  just  as  reptiles  that  take  form  and  hue, 
Speckle  and  blotch,  in  strange  assimilation 
From  thorn  and  scrub  and  stone  and  the  waste 

earth 
Through  which  they  crawl,  so  that  almost  they 

seem 

129 


DRAKE 


The  incarnate  spirits  of  their  wilderness, 
Were  these  most  horrible  kindred  of  the  night. 
Ionian  glooms  unfathomable,  grim  aisles, 
Grotesque,  distorted  boughs  and  dancing  shades 
Outbelched  their  dusky  brood  on  the  dim  shore; 
Monsters  with  sooty  limbs,  red-raddled  eyes, 
And  faces  painted  yellow,  women  and  men; 
Fierce  naked  giants  howling  to  the  moon, 
And  loathlier  Gorgons  with  long,  snaky  tresses 
Pouring  vile  purple  over  pendulous  breasts 
Like  wine-bags.    On  the  mainland  beach  they  lit 
A  brushwood  fire  that  reddened  creek  and  cove 
And   lapped   their   swarthy   limbs  with   hideous 

tongues 

Of  flame;  so  near  that  by  their  light  Drake  saw 
The  blood  upon  the  dead  man's  long  black  hair 
Clotting  corruption.    The  fierce  funeral  pyre 
Of  all  things  fair  seemed  rolling  on  that  shore; 
And  in  that  dull,  red  battle  of  smoke  and  flame, 
While  the  sea  crunched  the  pebbles,  and  dark 

drums 

Rumbled  out  of  the  gloom  as  if  this  earth 
Had  some  Titanic  tigress  for  a  soul 
Purring  in  forests  of  Eternity 

130 


BOOK    IV 


Over  her  own  grim  dreams,  his  lonely  spirit 
Passed  through  the  circles  of  a  world-wide  waste 
Darker  than  ever  Dante  roamed.    No  gulf 
Was  this  of  fierce  harmonious  reward, 
Where  Evil  moans  in  anguish  after  death, 
Where  all  men  reap  as  they  have  sown,  where 

gluttons 

Gorge  upon  toads  and  usurers  gulp  hot  streams 
Of  molten  gold.     This  was  that  Malebolge 
Which  hath  no  harmony  to  mortal  ears, 
But  seems  the  reeling  and  tremendous  dream 
Of  some  omnipotent  madman.    There  he  saw 
The  naked  giants  dragging  to  the  flames 
Young  captives  hideous  with  a  new  despair: 
He  saw  great  craggy  blood-stained  stones 

upheaved 

To  slaughter,  saw  through  mists  of  blood  and  fire 
The  cannibal  feast  prepared,  saw  filthy  hands 
Rend  limb  from  limb,  and  almost  dreamed  he  saw 
Foul  mouths  a-drip  with  quivering  human  flesh 
And  horrible  laughter  in  the  crimson  storm 
That  clomb  and  leapt  and  stabbed  at  the  high 

heaven 

Till  the  whole  night  seemed  saturate  with  red. 

131 


DRAKE 


And  all  night  long  upon  the  Golden  Hynde, 
A  cloud  upon  the  waters,  brave  Tom  Moone 
Watched  o'er  the  bulwarks  for  some  dusky  plunge 
To  warn  him  if  that  savage  crew  should  mark 
His  captain  and  swim  over  to  his  isle. 
Whistle  in  hand  he  watched,  his  boat  well  ready, 
His  men  low-crouched  around  him,  swarthy  faces 
Grim-chinned  upon  the  taffrail,  muttering  oaths 
That  trampled    down   the    fear   i'    their   bristly 

throats, 

While  at  their  sides  a  dreadful  hint  of  steel 
Sent  stray  gleams  to  the  stars.    But  little  heed 
Had  Drake  of  all  that  menaced  him,  though  oft 
Some  wandering  giant,  belching  from  the  feast, 
All  blood-besmeared,  would  come  so  near  he  heard 
His  heavy  breathing  o'er  the  narrow  strait. 
Yet  little  care  had  Drake,  for  though  he  sat 
Bowed  in  the  body  above  his  quiet  dead, 
His  burning  spirit  wandered  through  the  wastes, 
Wandered  through  hells  behind  the  apparent  hell, 
Horrors  immeasurable,  clutching  at  dreams 
Found  fair  of  old,  but  now  most  foul.    The  world 
Leered  at  him  through  its  old  remembered  mask 

132 


BOOK    IV 


Of  beauty:  the  green  grass  that  clothed  the  fields 
Of  England   (shallow,  shallow  fairy  dream!) 
What  was  it  but  the  hair  of  dead  men's  graves, 
Rooted  in  death,  enriched  with  all  decay? 
And  like  a  leprosy  the  hawthorn  bloom 
Crawled  o'er  the  whitening  bosom  of  the  spring; 
And  bird  and  beast  and  insect,  ay  and  man, 
How  fat  they  fed  on  one  another's  blood ! 
And  Love,  what  faith  in  Love,  when  spirit  and 

flesh 

Are  found  of  such  a  filthy  composition? 
And  Knowledge,  God,  his  mind  went  reeling  back 
To  that  dark  voyage  on  the  deadly  coast 
Of  Panama,  where  one  by  one  his  men 
Sickened  and  died  of  some  unknown  disease, 
Till  Joseph,  his  own  brother,  in  his  arms 
Died;    and    Drake    trampled    down    all    tender 

thought, 

All  human  grief,  and  sought  to  find  the  cause, 
For  his  crew's  sake,  the  ravenous  unknown  cause 
Of  that  fell  scourge.     There,  in  his  own  dark 

cabin, 

Lit  by  the  wild  light  of  the  swinging  lanthorn, 

133 


DRAKE 


He  laid  the  naked  body  on  that  board 

Where  they  had  supped  together.     He  took  the 

knife 

From  the  ague-stricken  surgeon's  palsied  hands, 
And  while  the  ship  rocked  in  the  eternal  seas 
And  dark  waves  lapped  against  the  rolling  hulk 
Making  the  silence  terrible  with  voices, 
He  opened  his  own  brother's  cold  white  corse, 
That  pale  deserted  mansion  of  a  soul, 
Bidding  the  surgeon  mark,  with  his  own  eyes, 
While  yet  he  had  strength  to  use  them,  the  foul 

spots, 

The  swollen  liver,  the  strange  sodden  heart, 
The  yellow  intestines.    Yea,  his  dry  lips  hissed 
There  in  the  stark  face  of  Eternity 
"  Seest  thou?    Seest  thou?    Knowest  thou  what  it 

means?" 

Then,  like  a  dream  up-surged  the  belfried  night 
Of  Saint  Bartholomew,  the  scented  palaces 
Whence  harlots  leered  out  on  the  twisted  streets 
Of  Paris,  choked  with  slaughter !    Europe  flamed 
With  human  torches,  living  altar  candles, 
Lighted  before  the  Cross  where  men  had  hanged 

134 


BOOK     IV 


The  Christ  of  little  children.     Cirque  by  cirque 
The  world-wide  hell  reeled  round  him,  East  and 

West, 

To  where  the  tortured  Indians  worked  the  will 
Of  lordly  Spain  in  golden-famed  Peru. 
"God,   is  thy  world  a  madman's  dream?"   he 

groaned : 

And  suddenly,  the  clamour  on  the  shore 
Sank,  and  that  savage  horde  melted  away 
Into  the  midnight  forest  as  it  came, 
Leaving  no  sign,  save  where  the  brushwood  fire 
Still  smouldered  like  a  ruby  in  the  gloom; 
And  into  the  inmost  caverns  of  his  mind 
That  other  clamour  sank,  and  there  was  peace. 
"  A  madman's  dream,"  he  whispered,  "  Ay,  to  me 
A  madman's  dream,"  but  better,  better  far 
Than  that  which  bears  upon  its  awful  gates, 
Gates  of  a  hell  defined,  unalterable, 
Abandon  hope  all  ye  who  enter  here! 
Here,  here  at  least  the  dawn  hath  power  to  bring 
New  light,  new  hope,  new  battles.    Men  may  fight 
And  sweep  away  that  evil,  if  no  more, 
At  least  from  the  small  circle  of  their  swords; 

135 


DRAKE 


Then  die,  content  if  they  have  struck  one  stroke 
For  freedom,  knowledge,  brotherhood;  one  stroke 
To  hasten  that  great  kingdom  God  proclaims 
Each  morning  through  the  trumpets  of  the  Dawn. 

And  far  away,  in  Italy,  that  night 

Young  Galileo,  gazing  upward,  heard 

The  self-same  whisper  from  the  abyss  of  stars 

Which  lured  the  soul  of  Shakespeare  as  he  lay 

Dreaming  in  May-sweet  England,  even  now, 

And  with  its  infinite  music  called  once  more 

The  soul  of  Drake  out  to  the  unknown  West. 

Now  like  a  wild  rose  in  the  fields  of  heaven 
Slipt  forth  the  slender  fingers  of  the  Dawn 
And  drew  the  great  grey  Eastern  curtains  back 
From  the  ivory  saffroned  couch.     Rosily  slid 
One  shining  foot  and  one  warm  rounded  knee 
From  silken  coverlets  of  the  tossed-back  clouds. 
Then,  like  the  meeting  after  desolate  years, 
Face  to  remembered  face,  Drake  saw  the  Dawn 
Step  forth  in  naked  splendour  o'er  the  sea ; 
Dawn,  bearing  still  her  rich  divine  increase 

136 


BOOK    IV 


Of  beauty,  love,  and  wisdom  round  the  world; 
The  same,  yet  not  the  same.    So  strangely  gleamed 
Her  pearl  and  rose  across  the  sapphire  waves 
That  scarce  he  knew  the  dead  man  at  his  feet. 
His  world  was  made  anew.    Strangely  his  voice 
Rang  through  that  solemn  Eden  of  the  morn 
Calling  his  men,  and  stranger  than  a  dream 
Their   boats    black-blurred   against   the    crimson 

East, 

Or  flashing  misty  sheen  where'er  the  light 
Smote  on  their  smooth  wet  sides,  like  seraph  ships 
Moved  in  a  dewy  glory  towards  the  land; 
Their  oars  of  glittering  diamond  broke  the  sea 
As  by  enchantment  into  burning  jewels 
And  scattered  rainbows  from  their  flaming  blades. 
The  clear  green  water  lapping  round  their  prows, 
The  words  of  sharp  command  as  now  the  keels 
Crunched  on  his  lonely  shore,  and  the  following 

wave 

Leapt  slapping  o'er  the  sterns,  in  that  new  light 
Were  more  than  any  miracle.     At  last 
Drake,  as  they  grouped  a  little  way  below 
The  crumbling  sandy  cliff  whereon  he  stood, 


DRAKE 

Seeming  to  overshadow  them  as  he  loomed 
A  cloud  of  black  against  the  crimson  sky, 
Spoke,  as  a  man  may  hardly  speak  but  once: 
"  My  seamen,  oh  my  friends,  companions,  kings; 
For  I  am  least  among  you,  being  your  captain ; 
And  ye  are  men,  and  all  men  born  are  kings, 
By  right  divine,  and  I  the  least  of  these, 
Because  I  must  usurp  the  throne  of  God 
And  sit  in  judgment,  even  till  I  have  set 
My  seal  upon  the  red  wax  of  this  blood, 
This  blood  of  my  dead  friend,  ere  it  grow  cold. 
Not  all  the  waters  of  that  mighty  sea 
Could  wash  my  hands  of  sin  if  I  should  now 
Falter  upon  my  path.    But  look  to  it,  you, 
Whose  word  was  doom  last  night  to  this  dead  man ; 
Look  to  it,  I  say,  look  to  it!    Brave  men  might 

shrink 

From  this  great  voyage;  but  the  heart  of  him 
Who  dares  turn  backward  now  must  be  so  hardy 
That  God  might  make  a  thousand  millstones  of  it 
To  hang  about  the  necks  of  those  that  hurt 
Some  little  child,  and  cast  them  in  the  sea. 
Yet  if  ye  will  be  found  so  more  than  bold, 

138 


BOOK    IV 


Speak  now,  and  I  will  hear  you:  God  will  judge. 
But  ye  shall  take  four  ships  of  these  my  five, 
Tear  out  the  lions  from  their  painted  shields, 
And  speed  you  homeward.    Leave  me  but  one  ship, 
My  Golden  Hynde,  and  five  good  friends,  nay  one, 
To  watch  when  I  must  sleep,  and  I  will  prove 
This  judgment  just  against  the  winds  of  the  world. 
Now  ye  that  will  return,  speak :  let  me  know  you* 
Or  be  for  ever  silent;  for  I  swear 
Over  this  butchered  body,  if  any  swerve 
Hereafter  from  the  straight  and  perilous  way, 
He  shall  not  die  alone.    What?    Will  none  speak ? 
My  comrades  and  my  friends !    Yet  ye  must  learn, 
Mark  me,  my  friends,  I'd  have  you  all  to  know 
That  ye  are  kings.    I'll  have  no  jealousies 
Aboard  my  fleet.     I'll  have  the  gentleman 
To  pull  and  haul  wi'  the  seaman.    I'll  not  have 
That  canker  of  the  Spaniards  in  my  fleet. 
Yc  that  were  captains,  I  cashier  you  all. 
I'll  have  no  captains;  I'll  have  nought  but  seamen, 
Obedient  to  my  will,  because  I  serve 
England.    What,  will  ye  murmur?    Now,  beware, 
Lest  I  should  bid  you  homeward  all  alone, 

139 


DRAKE 


You  whose  white  hands  are  found  too  delicate 
For  aught  but  dallying  with  your  jewelled  swords ! 
And  thou,  too,  Master  Fletcher,  my  ship's 

chaplain, 

Mark  me,  I'll  have  no  priestcraft.     I  have  heard 
Overmuch  talk  of  judgment  from  thy  lips — 
God's  judgment  here,  God's  judgment  there,  upon 

us! 

Whene'er  the  winds  are  contrary,  thou  takest 
Their  powers  upon  thee  for  thy  moment's  end. 
Thou  art  God's  minister,  not  God's  oracle: 
Chain  up  thy  tongue  a  little,  or,  by  His  wounds, 
If  thou  canst  read  this  wide  world  like  a  book, 
Thou  hast  so  little  to  fear,  I'll  set  thee  adrift 
On  God's  great  sea  to  find  thine  own  way  home. 
Why,  'tis  these  very  tyrannies  o'  the  soul 
We  strike  at  when  we  strike  at  Spain  for  England; 
And  shall  we  here,  in  this  great  wilderness, 
Ungrappled  and  unchallenged,  out  of  sight, 
Alone,  without  one  struggle,  sink  that  flag 
Which,  when  the  cannon  thundered,   could  but 

stream 

Triumphant  over  all  the  storms  of  death. 

140 


BOOK    IV 


Nay,  Master  Wynter  and  my  gallant  captains, 
I  see  ye  are  tamed.    Take  up  your  ranks  again 
In  humbleness,  remembering  ye  are  kings, 
Kings  for  the  sake  and  by  the  will  of  England, 
Therefore  her  servants  till  your  lives'  last  end. 
Comrades,  mistake  not  this,  our  little  fleet 
Is  freighted  with  the  golden  heart  of  England, 
And,  if  we  fail,  that  golden  heart  will  break. 
The  world's  wide  eyes  are  on  us,  and  our  souls 
Are  woven  together  into  one  great  flag 
Of  England.     Shall  we  strike  it?     Shall  it  be 

rent 

Asunder  with  small  discord,  party  strife, 
Ephemeral  conflict  of  contemptible  tongues, 
Or  shall  it  be  blazoned,  blazoned  evermore 
On  the  most  heaven-wide  page  of  history? 
This  is  that  hour, — I  know  it  in  my  soul, — 
When  we  must  choose  for  England.    Ye  are  kings, 
And  sons  of  Vikings,  exiled  from  your  throne. 
Have  ye  forgotten?    Nay,  your  blood  remembers ! 
'There  is  your  kingdom,  Vikings,  that  great  ocean 
Whose  tang  is  in  your  nostrils.    Ye  must  choose 
Whether  to  reassume  it  now  for  England, 

141 


DRAKE 


To  claim  its  thunders  for  her  panoply, 
To  lay  its  lightnings  in  her  sovereign  hands, 
Win  her  the  great  commandment  of  the  sea, 
And  let  its  glory  roll  with  her  dominion 
Round  the  wide  world  for  ever,  sweeping  back 
All  evil  deeds  and  dreams,  or  whether  to  yield 
For  evermore  that  kinghood.    Ye  must  learn 
Here  in  this  golden  dawn  our  great  emprise 
Is  greater  than  we  knew.    Eye  hath  not  seen, 
Ear  hath  not  heard,  what  came  across  the  dark 
Last  night,  as  there  anointed  with  that  blood 
I  knelt  and  saw  the  wonder  that  should  be. 
I  saw  new  heavens  of  freedom,  a  new  earth 
Released  from  all  old  tyrannies.     I  saw 
The  brotherhood  of  man,  for  which  we  rode, 
Most  ignorant  of  the  splendour  of  our  spears, 
Against  the  crimson  dynasties  of  Spain. 
Mother  of  freedom,  home  and  hope  and  love, 
Our  little  island,  far,  how  far  away, 
I  saw  thee  shatter  the  whole  world  of  hate, 
I  saw  the  sunrise  on  thy  helmet  flame 
With  new-born  hope  for  all  the  world  in  thee ! 
Come  now,  to  sea,  to  sea ! " 

143 


BOOK     IV 


And  ere  they  knew 

What  power  impelled  them,  with  one  mighty  cry 
They  lifted  up  their  hearts  to  the  new  dawn 
And  hastened  down  the  shores  and  launched  the 

boats, 

And  in  the  fierce  white  out-draught  of  the  waves 
Thrust  with  their  brandished  oars  and  the  boats 

leapt 

Out,  and  they  settled  at  the  groaning  thwarts, 
And  the  white  water  boiled  before  their  blades, 
As,  with  Drake's  iron  hand  upon  the  helm, 
His  own  boat  led  the  way ;  and  ere  they  knew 
What  power  as  of  a  wind  bore  them  along, 
Anchor  was  up,  their  hands  were  on  the  sheets, 
The  sails  were  broken  out,  and  that  small 

squadron 

Was  flying  like  a  sea-bird  to  the  South. 
Now  to  the  strait  Magellanus  they  came, 
And  entered  in  with  ringing  shouts  of  joy. 
Nor  did  they  think  there  was  a  fairer  strait 
In  all  the  world  than  this  which  lay  so  calm 
Between    great    silent   mountains    crowned    with 

snow, 

143 


DRAKE 


Unutterably  lonely.    Marvellous 
The  pomp  of  dawn  and  sunset  on  those  heights, 
And  like  a  strange  new  sacrilege  the  advance 
Of  prows  that  ploughed  that  time-forgotten  tide. 
But  soon  rude  flaws,  cross-currents,  tortuous 

channels 

Bewildered  them,  and  many  a  league  they  drove 
As  down  some  vaster  Acheron,  while  the  coasts 
With  wailing  voices  cursed  them  all  night  long, 
And  once  again  the  hideous  fires  leapt  red 
By  many  a  grim  wrenched  crag  and  gaunt  ravine. 
So  for  a  hundred  leagues  of  whirling  spume 
They  groped,  till  suddenly,  far  away,  they  saw 
Full  of  the  sunset,  like  a  cup  of  gold, 
The  purple  Westward  portals  of  the  strait. 
Onward  o'er  roughening  waves  they  plunged  and 

reached 

Capo  Desiderata,  where  they  saw 
What  seemed  stupendous  in  that  lonely  place, — 
Gaunt,  black,  and  sharp  as  death  against  the  sky 
The  Cross,  the  great  black  Cross  on  Cape  Desire, 
Which  dead  Magellan  raised  upon  the  height 
To  guide,  or  so  he  thought,  his  wandering  ships, 

144 


BOOK     IV 


Not  knowing  they  had  left  him  to  his  doom, 
Not  knowing  how  with  tears,  with  tears  of  joy, 
Rapture,  and  terrible  triumph,  and  deep  awe, 
Another  should  come  voyaging  and  read 
Unutterable  glories  in  that  sign; 
While  his  rough  seamen  raised  their  mighty  shout, 
And,  once  again,  before  his  wondering  eyes, 
League  upon  league  of  awful  burnished  gold, 
Rolled  the  unknown  immeasurable  sea. 

Now,  in  those  days,  as  even  Magellan  held, 
Men  thought  that  Southward  of  the  strait  there 

swept 

Firm  land  up  to  the  white  Antarticke  Pole, 
Which  now  not   far  they,  deemed.     But  when 

Drake  passed 

From  out  the  strait  to  take  his  Northward  way 
Up  the  Pacific  coast,  a  great  head-wind 
Suddenly  smote  them;  and  the  heaving  seas 
Bulged  all  around  them  into  billowy  hills, 
Dark  rolling  mountains,  whose  majestic  crests 
Like  wild  white  flames  far-blown  and  savagely 

flickering 

H5 


DRAKE 

Swept  through  the   clouds;   and  on   their   sullen 

slopes 

Like  wind-whipt  withered  leaves  those  little  ships, 
Now  hurtled  to  the  Zenith  and  now  plunged 
Down  into  bottomless  gulfs,  were  suddenly 

scattered 

And  whirled  away.  Drake,  on  the  Golden  Hynde, 
One  moment  saw  them  near  him,  soaring  up 
Above  him  on  the  huge  overhanging  billows 
As  if  to  crash  down  on  his  poop;  the  next, 
A!  mile  of  howling  sea  had  swept  between 
Each  of  those  wind-whipt  straws,  and  they  were 

gone 

Through  roaring  deserts  of  embattled  death, 
Where,  like  a  hundred  thousand  chariots  charged 
With  lightnings  and  with  thunders,  one  great  wave 
Leading  the  unleashed  ocean  down  the  storm 
Hurled  them  away  to  Southward. 

One  last  glimpse 
Drake  caught  o'  the  Marygold,  when  some  mighty 

vortex 

Wide  as  the  circle  of  the  wide  sea-line 

146 


BOOK    IV 


Swept  them  together  again.     He  saw  her 

staggering 

With  mast  snapt  short  and  wreckage-tangled  deck 
Where  men  like  insects  clung.  He  saw  the  waves 
Leap  over  her  mangled  hulk,  like  wild  white 

wolves, 

Volleying  out  of  the  clouds  down  dismal  steeps 
Of  green-black  water.     Like  a  wounded  steed 
Quivering  upon  its  haunches,  up  she  heaved 
Her  head  to  throw  them  off.     Then,  in  one  mass 
Of  fury  crashed  the  great  deep  over  her, 
Trampling  her  down,  down  into  the  nethermost 

pit, 

As  with  a  madman's  wrath.     She  rose  no  more, 
And    in    the    stream    of    the   ocean's    hurricane 

laughter 

The  Golden  Hynde  went  hurtling  to  the  South, 
With  sails  rent  into  ribbons  and  her  mast 
Snapt  like  a  twig.     Yea,  where  Magellan  thought 
Firm  land  had  been,  the  little  Golden  Hynde 
Whirled  like  an  autumn  leaf  through  league  on 

league 

Of  bursting  seas,  chaos  on  crashing  chaos, 

J47 


DRAKE 


A  rolling  wilderness  of  charging  Alps 

That  shook  the  world  with  their  tremendous  war ; 

Grim  beetling  cliffs  that  grappled  with  clamorous 

gulfs, 

Valleys  that  yawned  to  swallow  the  wide  heaven; 
Immense  white-flowering  fluctuant  precipices, 
And  hills  that  swooped  down  at  the  throat  of  hell ; 
From  Pole  to  Pole,  one  blanching  bursting  storm 
Of  world-wide  oceans,  where  the  huge  Pacific 
Roared  greetings  to  the  Atlantic,  and  both  swept 
In   broad   white   cataracts,   league   on   struggling 

league, 

Pursuing  and  pursued,  immeasurable, 
With  Titan  hands  grasping  the  rent  black  sky 
East,  West,  North,  South.    Then,  then  was  battle 

indeed 

Of  midget  men  upon  that  wisp  of  grass 
The  Golden  Hynde,  who,  as  her  masts  crashed, 

hung 

Clearing  the  tiny  wreckage  from  small  decks 
With  ant-like  weapons.    Not  their  captain's  voice 
Availed  them  now  amidst  the  deafening  thunder 
Of  seas  that  felt  the  heavy  hand  of  God, 

148 


BOOK    IV 


Only  they  saw  across  the  blinding  spume 
In  steely  flashes,  grand  and  grim,  a  face, 
Like  the  last  glimmer  of  faith  among  mankind, 
Calm  in  this  warring  universe,  where  Drake 
Stood,  lashed  to  his  post,  beside  the  helm.     Black 

seas 

Buffeted  him.     Half-stunned  he  dashed  away 
The  sharp  brine  from  his  eagle  eyes  and  turned 
To   watch    some    mountain-range   come   rushing 

down 

As  if  to  overwhelm  them  utterly.     Once,  indeed, 
Welkin  and  sea  were  one  black  wave,  white-f  anged, 
White-crested,  and  up-heaved  so  mightily 
That,  though  it  coursed  more  swiftly  than  a  herd 
Of  Titan  steeds  upon  some  terrible  plain 
Nigh  the  huge  City  of  Ombos,  yet  it  seemed 
Most  strangely  slow,  with  all  those  crumbling 

crests, 

Each  like  a  cataract  on  a  mountain-side, 
And  moved  with  the  steady  majesty  of  doom 
High  over  him.     One  moment's  flash  of  fear, 
And  yet  not  fear,  but  rather  life's  regret, 
Felt  Drake,  then  laughed  a  low  deep  laugh  of  joy 

149 


DRAKE 


Such  as  men  taste  in  battle ;  yea,  'twas  good 

To  grapple  thus  with  death;  one  low  deep  laugh, 

One  mutter  as  of  a  lion  about  to  spring, 

Then  burst  that  thunder  o'er  him.     Height  o'er 

height 
The  heavens  rolled  down,  and  waves  were  all  the 

world. 

Meanwhile,  in  England,  dreaming  of  her  sailor, 
Far  off,  his  heart's  bride  waited,  of  a  proud 
And  stubborn  house  the  bright  and  gracious  flower. 
Whom  oft  her  father  urged  with  scanty  grace 
That  Drake  was  dead  and  she  had  best  forget 
The  fellow,  he  grunted.     For  her  father's  heart 
Was  fettered  with  small  memories,  mocked  by  all 
The  greater  world's  traditions  and  the  trace 
Of  earth's   low   pedigree   among  the  suns. 
Ringed  with  the  terrible  twilight  of  the  Gods, 
Ringed  with  the  blood-red  dusk  of  dying  nations, 
His  faith  was  in  his  grandam's  mighty  skirt, 
And,  in  that  awful  consciousness  of  power, 
Had  it  not  been  that  even  in  this  he  feared 
To  sully  her  silken  flounce  or  farthingale 

150 


BOOK    IV 


Wi'  the  white  dust  on  his  hands,  he  would  have 

chalked 

To  his  own  shame,  thinking  it  shame,  the  word 
Nearest  to  God  in  its  divine  embrace 
Of  agonies  and  glories,  the  dread  word 
Demos  across  that  door  in  Nazareth 
Whence  came  the  prentice  Carpenter  whose  voice 
Hath  shaken  kingdoms  down,  whose  menial  gibbet 
Rises  triumphant  o'er  the  wreck  of  Empires 
And  stretches  out  its  arms  amongst  the  stars. 
But  she,  his  daughter,  only  let  her  heart 
Loveably  forge  a  charter  for  her  love, 
Cheat  her  false  creed  with  faithful  faery  dreams 
That    wrapt    her    love    in    mystery;    thought, 

perchance, 

He  came  of  some  unhappy  noble  race 
Ruined  in  battle  for  some  lost  high  cause. 
And,  in  the  general  mixture  of  men's  blood, 
Her  dream  was  truer  than  his  whose  bloodless 

pride 

Urged  her  to  wed  the  chinless,  moon-struck  fool, 
Sprung  from  five  hundred  years  of  idiocy, 
Who  now  besought  her  hand ;  would  force  her  bear 


DRAKE 


Some  heir  to  a  calf's  tongue  and  a  coronet, 
Whose  cherished  taints  of  blood  will  please  his 

friends 
With    "Yea,    Sir   William's   first-born  hath   the 

freak, 

The  family  freak,  being  embryonic.     Yea, 
And  with  a  fine  half-wittedness,  forsooth. 
Praise  God,  our  children's  children  yet  shall  see 
The  lord  o'  the  manor  muttering  to  himself 
At  midnight  by  the  gryphon-guarded  gates, 
Or  gnawing  his  nails  in  desolate  corridors, 
Or  pacing  moonlit  halls,  dagger  in  hand, 
Waiting  to  stab  his  father's  pitiless  ghost." 
So  she — the  girl — sweet  Bess  of  Sydenham, 
Most  innocently  proud,  was  prouder  yet 
Than  thus  to  let  her  heart  stoop  to  the  lure 
Of  lordling  lovers,  though  her  unstained  soul 
Slumbered  amidst  those  dreams  as  in  old  tales 
The  princess  in  the  enchanted  forest  sleeps 
Till  the  prince  wakes  her  with  a  kiss  and  draws 
The  far-flung  hues  o'  the  gleaming  magic  web 
Into  one  heart  of  flame.     And  now,  for  Drake, 
She  slept  like  Brynhild  in  a  ring  of  fire 

152 


BOOK    IV 


Which  he  must  pass  to  win  her.     For  the  wrath 
Of  Spain  now  flamed,  awaiting  his  return, 
All  round  the  seas  of  home;  and  even  the  Queen 
Elizabeth  blenched,  as  that  tremendous  Power 
Menaced  the   heart  of  England,   blenched  and 

vowed 

Drake's  head  to  Spain's  ambassadors,  though  still 
By  subtlety  she  hoped  to  find  some  way 
Later  to  save  or  warn  him  ere  he  came. 
Perchance,  too, — nay,  most  like, — he  will  be  slain, 
Or  even  now  lies  dead,  out  in  the  West, 
She  thought,  and  then  the  promise  works  no  harm. 
But,  day  by  day,  there  came  as  on  the  wings 
Of  startled  winds  from  o'er  the  Spanish  Main, 
Strange  echoes  as  of  sacked  and  clamouring  ports 
And  battered  gates  of  fabulous  golden  cities, 
A  murmur  out  of  the  sunsets  of  Peru, 
A  sea-bird's  wail  from  Lima.     While  no  less 
The  wrathful  menace  gathered  up  its  might 
All  round  our  little  isle ;  till  now  the  King 
Philip  of  Spain  half  secretly  decreed 
The  building  of  huge  docks  from  which  to  launch 
A!  Fleet  Invincible  that  should  sweep  the  seas 

153 


DRAKE 

Of  all  the  world,  throttle  with  one  broad  grasp 
All  Protestant  rebellion,  having  stablished 
His  red  feet  in  the  Netherlands,  thence  to  hurl 
His  whole  World-Empire  at  this  little  isle, 
England,  our  mother,  home  and  hope  and  love, 
And  bend  her  neck  beneath  his  yoke.     For  now 
No  half  surrender  sought  he.     At  his  back, 
Robed  with  the  scarlet  of  a  thousand  martyrs, 
Admonishing  him,  stood  Rome,  and,  in  her  hand, 
Grasping  the  Cross  of  Christ  by  its  great  hilt, 
She  pointed  it,  like  a  dagger,  tow'rds  the  throat 
Of  England. 

One  long  year,  two  years  had  passed 
Since   Drake  set   sail   from  grey   old   Plymouth 

Sound; 

And  in  those  woods  of  faery  wonder  still 
Slumbered  his  love  in  steadfast  faith.     But  now 
With  louder  lungs  her  father  urged — "  He  is  dead: 
Forget  him.     There  is  one  that  loves  you,  seeks 
Your  hand  in  marriage,  and  he  is  a  goodly  match 
E'en    for   my   daughter.      You   shall   wed   him, 

Bess!" 


BOOK     IV 


But  when  the  new-found  lover  came  to  woo, 
Glancing  in  summer  silks  and  radiant  hose, 
Whipt  doublet  and  enormous  pointed  shoon, 
She  played  him  like  a  fish  and  sent  him  home 
Spluttering  with  dismay,  a  stickleback 
Discoloured,  a  male  minnow  of  dimpled  streams 
With  all  his  rainbows  paling  in  the  prime, 
To  hide  amongst  his  lilies,  while  once  more 
She  took  her  casement  seat  that  overlooked 
The  sea  and  read  in  Master  Spenser's  book, 
Which  Francis  gave  "  To  my  dear  lady  and  queen 
Bess,"  that  most  rare  processional  of  love — 
"  Sweet  Thames,  run  softly  till  I  end  my  song!  " 
Yet  did  her  father  urge  her  day  by  day, 
And  day  by  day  her  mother  dinned  her  ears 
With  petty  saws,  as — "  When  /  was  a  girl," 
And  "  I  remember  what  my  father  said," 
And   "  Love,    oh     feather-fancies   plucked   from 

geese 

You  call  your  poets !  "     Yet  she  hardly  meant 
To  slight  true  love,  save  in  her  daughter's  heart; 
For  the  old  folk  ever  find  it  hard  to  see 
The  passion  of  their  children.     When  it  wakes, 

155 


DRAKE 

The  child  becomes  a  stranger.     That  small  bird 
Which  was  its  heart  hath  left  the  fostering  nest 
And  flown  they  know  not  whither.     So  with  Bess; 
But  since  her  soul  still  slumbered,  and  the  moons 
Rolled  on  and  blurred  her  soul's  particular  love 
With  the  vague  unknown  impulse  of  her  youth, 
Her  brave  resistance  often  melted  now 
In  tear's,  and  her  will  weakened  day  by  day; 
Till  on  a  dreadful  summer  morn  there  came, 
Borne  by  a  wintry  flaw,  home  to  the  Thames, 
A  bruised  and  battered  ship,  all  that  was  left, 
So  said  her  crew,  of  Drake's  ill-fated  fleet. 
John  Wynter,  her  commander,  told  the  tale 
Of  how  the  Golden  Hynde  and  Mary  gold 
Had  by  the  wind  Euroclydon  been  driven 
Sheer  o'er  the  howling  edges  of  the  world; 
Of  how  himself  by  God's  good  providence 
Was  hurled  into  the  strait  Magellanus; 
Of  how  on  the  horrible  frontiers  of  the  Void 
He  had  watched  in  vain,  lit  red  with  beacon-fires 
The  desperate  coasts  o'  the  black  abyss,  whence 

none 

Ever  returned,  though  many  a  week  he  watched 

156 


BOOK    IV 


Beneath  the  Cross;  and  only  saw  God's  wrath 
Burn  through  the  heavens  and  devastate  the 

mountains, 

And  hurl  unheard  of  oceans  roaring  down 
After  the  lost  ships  in  one  cataract 
Of  thunder  and  splendour  and  fury  and  rolling 

doom. 

Then,  with  a  bitter  triumph  in  his  face, 
As  if  this  were  the  natural  end  of  all 
Such  vile  plebeians,  as  if  he  had  foreseen  it 
As  if  himself  had  breathed  a  tactful  hint 
Into  the  aristocratic  ears  of  God, 
Her  father  broke  the  last  frail  barriers  down, 
Broke  the  poor  listless  will  o'  the  lonely  girl, 
Who  careless  now  of  aught  but  misery 
Promised  to  wed  their  lordling.     Mighty  speed 
They  made  to  press  that  loveless  marriage  on; 
And  ere  the  May  had  mellowed  into  June 
Her  marriage  eve  had  come.     Her  cold  hands 

held 
Drake's  gift.     She  scarce  could  see  her  name,  writ 

broad 

By  that  strong  hand  as  it  was,  To  my  Queen  Bess. 

157 


DRAKE 


She  looked  out  through  her  casement  o'er  the  sea, 
Listening  its  old  enchanted  moan,  which  seemed 
Striving  to  speak,  she  knew  not  what.     Its  breath 
Fluttered  the  roses  round  the  grey  old  walls, 
And  shook  the  starry  jasmine.     A  great  moon 
Hung  like  a  red  lamp  in  the  sycamore. 
A  corn-crake  in  the  hay-fields  far  away 
Chirped  like  a  cricket,  and  the  night-jar  churred 
His  passionate  love-song.     Soft-winged  moths 

besieged 

Her  lantern.     Under  many  a  star-stabbed  elm 
The  nightingale  began  his  golden  song, 
Whose  warm  thick  notes  are  each  a  drop  of  blood 
From  that  small  throbbing  breast  against  the  thorn 
Pressed  close  to  turn  the  white  rose  into  red ; 
Even  as  her  lawn-clad  may-white  bosom  pressed 
Quivering  against  the  bars,  while  her  dark  hair 
Streamed  round  her  shoulders  and  her  small  bare 

feet 
Gleamed  in  the  dusK.     Then  spake  she  to  her 

maid — 

"  I  cannot  sleep,  I  cannot  sleep  to-night. 
Bring  thy  lute  hither  and  sing.     Say,  dost  thou 

think 

158 


BOOK    IV 


The  dead  can  watch  us  from  their  distant  world? 
Can  our  dead  friends  be  near  us  when  we  weep? 
I  wish  'twere  so !     For  then  my  love  would  come, 
No  matter  then  how  far,  my  love  would  come, 
And  press  a  light  kiss  on  these  aching  eyes 
And  say,  '  Grieve  not,  dear  heart,  for  I  know  all, 
And  I  forgive  thee.'     Ah,  then,  I  should  sleep, 
Sleep,  sleep  and  dream  once  more.     Last  night, 

last  night, 

I  know  not  if  it  were  that  song  of  thine 
Which  tells  of  some  poor  lover,  crazed  with  pain, 
Who  wanders  to  the  grave-side  of  his  love 
And  knocks  at  that  cold  door  until  his  love 
Opens  it,  and  they  two  for  some  brief  while 
Forget  their  doom  in  one  another's  arms 
Once  more;  for,  oh,  last  night,  I  had  a  dream; 
My  love  came  to  me  through  the  Gates  of  Death : 
I  know  not  how  he  came.     I  only  know 
His  arms  were  round  me,  and,  from  far  away, 
From  far  beyond  the  stars  it  seemed,  his  voice 
Breathed,  in  unutterable  grief,  farewells 
Of   shuddering  sweetness,   clasped  in  one  small 

word — 

Sweetheart,  a  joy  untold,  an  untold  pain, 

159 


DRAKE 


Far,  far  away,  although  his  breath  beat  warm 
Against  my  cheek  and  dried  mine  own  poor  tears. 
Ah,  sing  that  song  once  more ;  for  I  have  heard 
There  are  some  songs,  and  this  was  one  I  am  sure, 
Like  the  grey  poppies  of  those  dreaming  fields 
Where  poor  dead  lovers  drift,  and  in  their  pain 
We  lose  our  own.     Give  me  that  poppied  sleep, 
And  if — in  dreams — I  touch  my  true  love's  lips, 
Trust  me  I  will  not  ask  ever  to  wake 
Again."     Whereat  the  maiden  touched  her  lute 
And  sang,  low-toned,  with  pity  in  her  eyes. 

Then  Bess  bowed  down  her  lovely  head;  her  breast 
Heaved  with  short  sobs  and,  sickening  at  the  heart, 
She  grasped  the  casement,  moaning,  "  Love,  Love, 

Love, 

Come  quickly:  come,  before  it  is  too  late; 
Come  quickly — oh,  come  quickly !  " 

Then  her  maid 

Slipped  a  soft  arm  around  her  and  gently  drew 
The  supple  quivering  body,  shaken  with  sobs, 
And  all  that  firm  young  sweetness,  to  her  breast, 
And  led  her  to  her  couch,  and  all  night  long 

1 60 


BOOK    IV 


She  watched  beside  her,  till  the  marriage  morn 
Blushed  in  the  heartless  East.     Then  swiftly  flew 
The  pitiless  moments,  till — as  in  a  dream — 
And  borne  along  by  dreams,  or  like  a  lily 
Cut  from  its  anchorage  in  the  stream  to  glide 
Down  the  smooth  bosom  of  an  unknown  world 
Through  fields  of  unknown  blossom,  so  moved 

Bess 

Amongst  her  maids,  as  the  procession  passed 
Forth  to  the  little  church  upon  the  cliffs, 
And,  as  in  those  days  was  the  bridal  mode, 
Her  lustrous  hair  in  billowing  beauty  streamed 
Dishevelled  o'er  her  shoulders,  while  the  sun 
Caressed  her  bent  and  glossy  head,  and  shone 
Over  the  deep  blue,  white-flaked,  wrinkled  sea, 
On  full-blown  rosy-petalled  sails  that  flashed 
Like  flying  blossoms  fallen  from  her  crown. 


161 


BOOK    V 

i 

With  the  fruit  of  'Aladdin's  garden  clustering  thick  in 

her  hold, 
With  rubies  awash  in  her  scuppers  and  her  bilge  ablaze 

with  gold, 
A  world  in  arms  behind  her  to  sever  her  heart  from 

home. 
The  Golden   Hynde   drove   onward  over  the  glittering 

foam. 

II 

//  we  go  as  we  came,  by  the  Southward,  we  meet  wi 

the  fleets  of  Spain! 
fTis  a  thousand  to  one  against  us;  we'll  turn  to  the  West 

again! 
We   have   captured  a   China  pilot,   his   charts   and   his 

gulden  keys: 
We'll  sail  to  the  golden  Gateway,  over  the  golden  seas. 

OVER  the  immeasurable  molten  gold 
Wrapped  in  a  golden  haze,  onward 
they  drew; 

And  now  they  saw  the  tiny  purple  quay 
Grow  larger  and  darker  and  brighten  into  brown 
Across  the  swelling  sparkle  of  the  waves. 

162 


<£> 

g 

•s 

- 

— 

W 


BOOK    V 


Brown  on  the  quay,  a  train  of  tethered  mules 
Munched    at    the    nose-bags,    while    a    Spaniard 

drowsed 

On  guard  beside  what  seemed  at  first  a  heap 
Of  fish,  then  slowly  turned  to  silver  bars 
Up-piled  and  glistering  in  the  enchanted  sun. 
Nor  did  that  sentry  wake  as,  like  a  dream, 
The  Golden  Hynde  divided  the  soft  sleep 
Of  warm  green  lapping  water,  sidled  up, 
Sank   sail,    and   moored   beside    the   quay.     But 

Drake, 

Lightly  leaping  ashore  and  stealing  nigh, 
Picked  up  the  Spaniard's  long  gay-ribboned  gun 
Close  to  his  ear.     At  once,  without  a  sound, 
The  watchman  opened  his  dark  eyes  and  stared 
As  at  strange  men  who  suddenly  had  come, 
Borne  by  some  magic  carpet,  from  the  stars; 
Then,  with  a  courtly  bow,  his  right  hand  thrust 
Within  the  lace  embroideries  of  his  breast. 
Politely  Drake,  with  pained  apologies 
For  this  disturbance  of  a  cavalier 
Napping  on  guard,  straightway  resolved  to  make 
Complete  amends,  by  now  relieving  him 

163 


DRAKE 


Of  these — which  doubtless  troubled  his  repose — 
These  anxious  bars  of  silver.     With  that  word 
Two  seamen  leaped  ashore  and,  gathering  up 
The  bars  in  a  stout  old  patch  of  tawny  sail, 
Slung  them  aboard.     No  sooner  this  was  done 
Than  out  o'  the  valley,  like  a  foolish  jest 
Out  of  the  mouth  of  some  great  John-a-dreams, 
In  soft  procession  of  buffoonery 
A  woolly  train  of  llamas  proudly  came 
Stepping  by  two  and  two  along  the  quay, 
Laden  with  pack  on  pack  of  silver  bars 
And  driven  by  a  Spaniard.     His  amaze 
The  seamen  greeted  with  profuser  thanks 
For  his  most  punctual  thought  and  opportune 
Courtesy.     None  the  less  they  must  avouch 
It  pained  them  much  to  see  a  cavalier 
Turned  carrier;  and,  at  once,  they  must  insist 
On  easing  him  of  that  too  sordid  care. 

Then  out  from  Tarapaca  once  again 

They   sailed,   their  hold  a   glimmering  mine   of 

wealth, 

Towards  Arica  and  Lima,  where  they  deemed 

164 


BOOK    V 


The  prize  of  prizes  waited  unaware. 

For  every  year  a  gorgeous  galleon  sailed 

With  all  the  harvest  of  Potosi's  mines 

And  precious  stones  from  dead  kings'  diadems, 

Aztecs'  and  Incas'  gem-encrusted  crowns, 

Pearls  from  the  glimmering  Temples  of  the 

Moon, 

Rich  opals  with  their  milky  rainbow-clouds, 
White  diamonds  from  the  Temples  of  the  Sun, 
Carbuncles   flaming  scarlet,   amethysts, 
Rubies,  and  sapphires ;  these  to  Spain  she  brought 
To  glut  her  priestly  coffers.     Now  not  far 
Ahead  they  deemed  she  lay  upon  that  coast, 
Crammed  with  the  lustrous  Indies,  wrung  with 

threat 

And  torture  from  the  naked  Indian  slaves. 
To  him  that  spied  her  topsails  first  a  prize 
Drake  offered  of  the  wondrous  chain  he  wore; 
And  every  seaman,  every  ship-boy,  watched 
Not  only  for  the  prize,  but  for  their  friends, 
If  haply  these  had  weathered  through  the  storm. 
Nor  did  they  know  their  friends  had  homeward 

turned, 

165 


DRAKE 


Bearing  to  England  and  to  England's  Queen, 
And  his  heart's  queen,  the  tale  that  Drake  was 
dead. 

Northward  they  cruised  along  a  warm  wild  coast 
That  like  a  most  luxurious  goddess  drowsed 
Supine  to  heaven,  her  arms  behind  her  head, 
One  knee  up-thrust  to  make  a  mountain-peak, 
Her  rosy  breast  up-heaving  their  soft  snow 
In  distant  Andes,  and  her  naked  side 
With  one  rich  curve  for  half  a  hundred  leagues 
Bathed  by  the  creaming  foam ;  her  heavy  hair 
Fraught  with  the  perfume  of  a  thousand  forests 
Tossed  round  about  her  beauty;  and  her  mouth 
A  scarlet  mystery  of  distant  flower 
Up-turned  to  take  the  kisses  of  the  sun. 
But  like  a  troop  of  boys  let  loose  from  school 
The  adventurers  went  by,  startling  the  stillness 
Of  that  voluptuous  dream-encumbered  shore 
With  echoing  shouts  of  laughter  and  alien  song. 

But  as  they  came  to  Arica,  from  afar 
They  heard  the  clash  of  bells  upon  the  breeze, 

166 


BOOK    V 


And  knew  that  Rumour  with  her  thousand  wings 
Had  rushed  before  them.     Horsemen  in  the  night 
Had  galloped  through  the  white  coast-villages 
And  spread  the  dreadful  cry  "El  Draque!" 

abroad; 

And  when  the  gay  adventurers  drew  nigh 
They  found  the  quays  deserted,  and  the  ships 
All  flown,  except  one  little  fishing-boat, 
Wherein  an  old  man  like  a  tortoise  moved 
A  wrinkled  head  above  the  rusty  net 
His  crawling  hands  repaired.     He  seemed  to  dwell 
Outside  the  world  of  war  and  peace,  outside 
Everything  save  his  daily  task,  and  cared 
No  whit  who  else  might  win  or  lose;  for  all 
The  pilot  asked  of  him  without  demur 
He  answered,  scarcely  looking  from  his  work. 
A  galleon  laden  with  eight  hundred  bars 
Of  silver,  not  three  hours  ago  had  flown 
Northward,  he  muttered.     Ere  the  words  were 

out, 
The  will  of  Drake  thrilled  through  the  Golden 

Hynde 
Like  one  sharp  trumpet-call,  and  ere  they  knew 

167 


DRAKE 

What  power  impelled  them,  crowding  on  all  sail 
Northward  they  surged,  and  roaring  down  the 

wind 

At  Chiuli,  port  of  Arequipa,  saw 
The  chase  at  anchor.     Wondering  they  came 
With  all  the  gunners  waiting  at  their  guns 
Bare-armed  and  silent — nearer,  nearer  yet, — 
Close  to  the  enemy.     But  no  sight  or  sound 
Of  living  creature  stirred  upon  her  decks. 
Only  a  great  grey  cat  lay  in  the  sun 
Upon  a  warm  smooth  cannon-butt.     A  chill 
Ran  through  the  veins  of  even  the  boldest  there 
At  that  too  peaceful  silence.     Cautiously 
Drake  neared  her  in  his  pinnace ;  cautiously, 
Cutlass  in  hand,  up  that  mysterious  hull 
He  clomb,  and  wondered,  as  he  climbed,  to  breathe 
The  friendly  smell  o'  the  pitch  and  hear  the  waves 
With  their  incessant  old  familiar  sound 
Crackling  and  slapping  against  her  windward 

flank. 

A  ship  of  dreams  was  that;  for  when  they  reached 
The  silent  deck,  they  saw  no  crouching  forms, 
They  heard  no  sound  of  life.     Only  the  hot 
Creak  of  the  cordage  whispered  in  the  sun. 

1 68 


BOOK    V 


The  cat  stood  up  and  yawned,  and  slunk  away 
Slowly,  with  furtive  glances.     The  great  hold 
Was  empty,  and  the  rich  cabin  stripped  and  bare. 
Suddenly  one  of  the  seamen  with  a  cry 
Pointed  where,  close  inshore,  a  little  boat 
Stole  towards  the  town;  and,  with  a  louder  cry, 
Drake  bade  his  men  aboard  the  Golden  Hynde. 
Scarce  had  they  pulled  two  hundred  yards  away 
When,   with    a   roar  that   seemed  to   buffet   the 

heavens 

And  rip  the  heart  of  the  sea  out,  one  red  flame 
Blackened  with  fragments,  the  great  galleon  burst 
Asunder !     All  the  startled  waves  were  strewn 
With  wreckage;  and  Drake  laughed — "  My  lads, 

we  have  diced 

With  death  to-day,  and  won !  My  merry  lads, 
It  seems  that  Spain  is  bolting  with  the  stakes! 
Now,  if  I  have  to  stretch  the  skies  for  sails 
And  summon  the  blasts  of  God  up  from  the 

South 

To  fill  my  canvas,  I  will  overhaul 
Those  dusky  devils  with  the  treasure-ship 
That  holds  our  hard-earned  booty.     Pull  hard  all, 
Hard  for  the  Golden  Hynde." 

169 


DRAKE 


And  so  they  came 

At  dead  of  night  on  Callao  de  Lima ! 
They  saw  the  harbour  lights  across  the  waves 
Glittering,  and  the  shadowy  hulks  of  ships 
Gathered  together  like  a  flock  of  sheep 
Within  the  port.     With  shouts  and  clink  of  chains 
A  shadowy  ship  was  entering  from  the  North, 
And  like  the  shadow  of  that  shadow  slipped 
The  Golden  Hynde  beside  her  thro'  the  gloom; 
And  side  by  side  they  anchored  in  the  port 
Amidst  the  shipping !     Over  the  dark  tide 
A  small  boat  from  the  customs-house  drew  near. 
A  sleepy,  yawning,  gold-laced  officer 
Boarded  the  Golden  Hynde,  and  with  a  cry, 
Stumbling  against  a  cannon-butt,  he  saw 
The  bare-armed  British  seamen  in  the  gloom 
All  waiting  by  their  guns.     Wildly  he  plunged 
Over  the  side  and  urged  his  boat  away, 
Crying,    "El  Draque!    El  Draque!"    At   that 

dread  word 

The  darkness  filled  with  clamour,  and  the  ships, 
Cutting  their  cables,  drifted  here  and  there 
In  mad  attempts  to  seek  the  open  sea. 

170 


BOOK    V 


Wild  lights  burnt  hither  and  thither,  and  all  the 

port, 

One  furnace  of  confusion,  heaved  and  seethed 
In  terror;  for  each  shadow  of  the  night, 
Nay,  the  great  night  itself,  was  all  El  Draque. 
The  Dragon's  wings  were  spread  from  quay  to 

quay, 

The  very  lights  that  burnt  from  mast  to  mast 
And  flared  across  the  tide  kindled  his  breath 
To  fire;  while  here  and  there  a  British  pinnace 
Slipped  softly  thro*  the  roaring  gloom  and  glare, 
Ransacking  ship  by  ship;  for  each  one  thought 
A  fleet  had  come  upon  them.     Each  gave  up 
The  struggle  as  each  was  boarded;  while, 

elsewhere, 
Cannon  to  cannon,  friends  bombarded  friends. 

Yet  not  one  ounce  of  treasure  in  Callao 
They  found ;  for,  fourteen  days  before  they  came, 
That  greatest  treasure-ship  of  Spain,  with  all 
The  gorgeous  harvest  of  that  year,  had  sailed 
For  Panama:  her  ballast — silver  bars; 
Her  cargo — rubies,   emeralds,   and  gold. 

171 


DRAKE 


Out  through  the  clamour  and  the  darkness,  out, 
Out  to  the  harbour  mouth,  the  Golden  Hynde, 
Steered  by  the  iron  soul  of  Drake,  returned: 
And  where  the  way  was  blocked,  her  cannon  clove 
A  crimson  highway  to  the  midnight  sea. 
Then  Northward,  Northward,  o'er  the  jewelled 

main, 

Under  the  white  moon  like  a  storm  they  drove 
In  quest  of  the  Cacafuego.     Fourteen  days 
Her  start  was ;  and  at  dawn  the  fair  wind  sank, 
And  chafing  lay  the  Golden  Hynde,  becalmed; 
While,  on  the  hills,  the  Viceroy  of  Peru 
Marched  down  from  Lima  with  two  thousand 

men, 

And  sent  out  four  huge  ships  of  war  to  sink 
Or  capture   the   fierce   Dragon.     Loud  laughed 

Drake 

To  see  them  creeping  nigh,  urged  with  great  oars, 
Then  suddenly  pause;  for  none  would  be  the  first 
To  close  with  him.  And,  ere  they  had  steeled 

their  hearts 

To  battle,  a  fair  breeze  broke  out  anew, 
And  Northward  sped  the  little  Golden  Hynde 

172 


BOOK    V 


In  quest  of  the  lordliest  treasure-ship  of  Spain. 
.  •  •  .  •  •  «j 

Behind  her  lay  a  world  in  arms;  for  now 
Wrath  and  confusion  clamoured  for  revenge 
From  sea  to  sea.     Spain  claimed  the  pirate's  head 
From  England,  and  awaited  his  return 
With  all  her  tortures.     And  where'er  he  passed 
He  sowed  the  dragon's  teeth,  and  everywhere 
Cadmean  broods  of  armed  men  arose 
And  followed,  followed  on  his  fiery  trail. 
Men  toiled  at  Lima  to  fit  out  a  fleet 
Grim  enough  to  destroy  him.     All  night  long 
The  flare  went  up  from  cities  on  the  coast 
Where  men  like  naked  devils  toiled  to  cast 
Cannon  that  might  have  overwhelmed  the  powers 
Of  Michael  when  he  drave  that  hideous  rout 
Through  livid  chaos  to  the  black  abyss. 
Small  hope  indeed  there  seemed  of  safe  return; 
But  Northward  sped  the  little  Golden  Hynde, 
The  world-watched  midget  ship  of  eighteen  guns, 
Undaunted;  and  upon  the  second  dawn 
Sighted  a  galleon,  not  indeed  the  chase, 
LYet  worth  a  pause ;  for  out  of  her  they  took — • 

173 


DRAKE 


Embossed  with  emeralds  large  as  pigeon's  eggs — 

A  golden  crucifix,  with  eighty  pounds 

In  weight  of  gold.     The  rest  they  left  behind; 

And  onward,  onward,  to  the  North  they  flew — 

A  score  of  golden  miles,  a  score  of  green, 

An  hundred  miles,  eight  hundred  miles  of  foam, 

Rainbows  and  fire,  ransacking  as  they  went 

Ship  after  ship  for  news  o'  the  chase  and  gold; 

Learning  from  every  capture  that  they  drew 

Nearer  and  nearer.     At  Truxillo,  dim 

And  dreaming  city,  a-drowse  with  purple  flowers, 

She  had  paused,  ay,  paused  to  take  a  freight  of 

gold! 

At  Paita — she  had  passed  two  days  in  front, 
Only  two  days,  two  days  ahead;  nay,  one! 
At  Quito,  close  inshore,  a  youthful  page, 
Bright-eyed,  ran  up  the  rigging  and  cried,  UA 

sail! 

A  sail!     The  Cacafuego!     And  the  chain 
Is  mine !  "     And  by  the  strange  cut  of  her  sails, 
Whereof  they  had  been  told  in  Callao, 
They  knew  her! 

Heavily  laden  with  her  gems, 
Lazily  drifting  with  her  golden  fruitage, 

174 


BOOK    V 


Over  the  magic  seas  they  saw  her  hull 
Loom  as  they  onward  drew;  but  Drake,  for  fear 
The  prey  might  take  alarm  and  run  ashore, 
Trailed  wine-skins,  filled  with  water,  o'er  the  side 
To  hold  his  ship  back,  till  the  darkness  fell, 
And  with  the  night  the  off-shore  wind  arose. 
At  last  the  sun  sank  down,  the  rosy  light 
Faded  from  Andes'  peaked  and  bosomed  snow: 
The  night-wind  rose:  the  wine-skins  were 

uphauled; 

And,  like  a  hound  unleashed,  the  Golden  Hynde 
Leapt  forward  thro'  the  gloom. 

A  cable's  length 

Divided  them.     The  Cacafuego  heard 
A  rough  voice  in  the  darkness  bidding  her 
Heave  to!     She  held  her  course.     Drake  gave  the 

word. 

A  broadside  shattered  the  night,  and  over  her  side 
Her  main-yard  clattered  like  a  broken  wing! 
On  to  her  decks  the  British  sea-dogs  swarmed, 
Cutlass  in  hand :  that  fight  was  at  an  end. 

The  ship  was  cleared,   a  prize   crew  placed  on 
board, 

175 


DRAKE 


Then  both  ships  turned  their  heads  to  the  open 

sea. 

/ 

At  dawn,  being  out  of  sight  of  land,  they  'gan 
Examine  the  great  prize.     None  ever  knew 
Save  Drake  and  Gloriana  what  wild  wealth 
They  had  captured  there.     Thus  much  at  least 

was  known : 

An  hundredweight  of  gold,  and  twenty  tons 
Of  silver  bullion;  thirteen  chests  of  coins; 
Nuggets  of  gold  unnumbered;  countless  pearls, 
Diamonds,  and  emeralds;  but  the  worth  of  these 
Was  past  all  reckoning.     In  the  crimson  dawn, 
Ringed  with  the  lonely  pomp  of  sea  and  sky, 
The  naked-footed  seamen  bathed  knee-deep 
In  gold  and  gathered  up  Aladdin's  fruit — 
All-coloured  gems — and  tossed  them  in  the  sun. 
The  hold  like  one  great  elfin  orchard  gleamed 
With  dusky  globes  and  tawny  glories  piled, 
Hesperian  apples,  heap  on  mellow  heap, 
Rich  with  the  hues  of  sunset,  rich  and  ripe 
And  ready  for  the  enchanted  cider-press; 
An  Emperor's  ransom  in  each  burning  orb; 
A  kingdom's  purchase  in  each  clustered  bough ; 
The  freedom  of  all  slaves  in  every  chain. 

176 


BOOK    VI 

NOW  like  the  soul  of  Ophir  on  the  sea 
Glittered  the  Golden  Hynde,  and  all 
her  heart 

Turned  home  to  England.     As  a  child 
that  finds 

A  ruby  ring  upon  the  highway,  straight 
Homeward  desires  to  run  with  it,  so  she 
Yearned   for   her  home   and  country.     Yet   the 

world 

Was  all  in  arms  behind  her.     Fleet  on  fleet 
Awaited  her  return.     Along  the  coast 
The  very  churches  melted  down  their  chimes 
And  cast  them  into  cannon.     To  the  South 
A  thousand  cannon  watched  Magellan's  straits, 
And  fleets  were  scouring  all  the  sea  like  hounds, 
With  orders  that  where'er  they  came  on  Drake, 
Although  he  were  the  Dragon  of  their  dreams, 
They  should  out-blast  his  thunders  and  convey, 
Dead  or  alive,  his  body  back  to  Spain. 

And  Drake  laughed  out  and  said,  "  My  trusty  lads 

177 


DRAKE 


Of  Devon,  you  have  made  the  wide  world  ring 
With  England's  name;  you  have  swept  one  half 

the  seas 

From  sky  to  sky ;  and  in  our  oaken  hold 
You  have  packed  the  gorgeous  Indies.     We  shall 

sail 

But  slowly  with  such  wealth.     If  we  return, 
We  are  one  against  ten  thousand !     We  will  seek 
The  fabled  Northern  passage,  take  our  gold 
Safe  home;  then  out  to  sea  again  and  try 
Our  guns  against  their  guns." 

And  as  they  sailed 

Northward,  they  swooped  on  warm  blue  Guatulco 
For  food  and  water.     Nigh  the  dreaming  port 
The  grand  alcaldes  in  high  conclave  sat, 
Blazing  with  gold  and  scarlet,  as  they  tried 
A  batch  of  negro  slaves  upon  the  charge 
Of  idleness  in  Spanish  mines;  dumb  slaves, 
With  bare  scarred  backs  and  labour-broken  knees, 
And  sorrowful  eyes  like  those  of  wearied  kine 
Spent  from  the  ploughing.     Even  as  the  judge 
Rose  to  condemn  them  to  the  knotted  lash 


BOOK    VI 


The  British  boat's  crew,  quiet  and  compact, 
Entered  the  court.  The  grim  judicial  glare 
Grew  wider  with  amazement,  and  the  judge 
Staggered  against  his  gilded  throne. 

"  I  thank 
Almighty  God,"  cried  Drake,  "  who  hath  given 

me  this — 

That  I  who  once,  in  ignorance,  procured 
Slaves  for  the  golden  bawdy-house  of  Spain, 
May  now,  in  England's  name,  help  to  requite 
That  wrong.     For  now  I  say  in  England's  name, 
Where'er  her  standard  flies,  the  slave  shall  stand 
Upright,  the  shackles  fall  from  off  his  limbs. 
Unyoke  the  prisoners:  tell  them  they  are  men 
Once  more,  not  beasts  of  burden.     Set  them  free ; 
But  take  these  gold  and  scarlet  popinjays 
Aboard  my  Golden  Hynde;  and  let  them  write 
An  order  that  their  town  shall  now  provide 
My  boats  with  food  and  water." 

This  being  done, 

The  slaves  being  placed  in  safety  on  the  prize, 
The  Golden  Hynde  revictualled  and  the  casks 
Replenished  with  fresh  water,  Drake  set  free 

179 


DRAKE 

The  judges  and  swept  Northward  once  again; 

And,  off  the  coast  of  Nicaragua,  found 

A  sudden  treasure  better  than  all  gold; 

For  on  the  track  of  the  China  trade  they  caught 

A  ship  whereon  two  China  pilots  sailed, 

And  in  their  cabin  lay  the  secret  charts, 

Red  hieroglyphs  of  Empire,  unknown  charts 

Of  silken  sea-roads  down  the  golden  West 

Where  all  roads  meet  and  East  and  West  are  one. 

And,  with  that  mystery  stirring  in  their  hearts 

Like  a  strange  cry  from  home,  Northward  they 

swept 

And  Northward,  till  the  soft  luxurious  coasts 
Hardened,  the  winds  grew  bleak,  the  great  green 

waves 
Loomed  high  like  mountains  round  them,  and  the 

spray 
Froze  on  their  spars  and  yards.     Fresh  from  the 

warmth 

Of  tropic  seas  the  men  could  hardly  brook 
That  cold;  and  when  the  floating  hills  of  ice 
Like  huge  green  shadows  crowned  with  ghostly 

snow 

180 


BOOK    VI 


Went   past   them   with    strange   whispers   in   the 

gloom, 

Or  took  mysterious  colours  in  the  dawn, 
Their  hearts  misgave  them;  and  they  found  no 

way; 

But  all  was  iron  shore  and  icy  sea. 
And  one  by  one  the  crew  fell  sick  to  death 
In  that  fierce  winter,  and  the  land  still  ran 
Westward  and  showed  no  passage.     Tossed  with 

storms, 

Onward  they  plunged,  or  furrowed  gentler  tides 
Of  ice-lit  emerald  that  made  the  prow 
A  faery  beak  of  some  enchanted  ship 
Flinging  wild  rainbows  round  her  as  she  drove 
Thro'  seas  unsailed  by  mortal  mariners, 
Past  isles  unhailed  of  any  human  voice, 
Where  sound  and  silence  mingled  in  one  song 
Of  utter  solitude.     Ever  as  they  went 
The  flag  of  England  blazoned  the  broad  breeze, 
Northward,  where  never  ship  had  sailed  before, 
Northward,  till  lost  in  helpless  wonderment, 
Dazed  as  a  soul  awakening  from  the  dream 
Of  death  to  some  wild  dawn  in  Paradise 

181 


DRAKE 


(Yet  burnt  with  cold  as  they  whose  very  tears 

Freeze  on  their  faces  where  Cocytus  wails) 

All  world-worn,   bruised,  wing-broken,  wracked, 

and  wrenched, 
Blackened  with   lightning,    scarred   as   with   evil 

deeds, 

But  all  embalmed  in  beauty  by  that  sun 
Which  never  sets,  bosomed  in  peace  at  last 
The  Golden  Hynde  rocked  on  a  glittering  calm. 
Seas  that  no  ship  had  ever  sailed,  from  sky 
To  glistening  sky,  swept  round  them.     Glory  and 

gleam, 

Glamour  and  lucid  rapture  and  diamond  air 
Embraced  her  broken  spars,  begrimed  with  gold 
Her  gloomy  hull,  rocking  upon  a  sphere 
New  made,  it  seemed,  mysterious  with  the  first 
Mystery  of  the  world,  where  holy  sky 
And  sacred  sea  shone  like  the  primal  Light 
Of  God,  a-stir  with  whispering  sea-bird's  wings 
And  glorious  with  clouds.     Only,  all  day, 
All  night,  the  rhythmic  utterance  of  His  Will 
In  the  deep  sigh  of  seas,  that  washed  His  throne, 
Rose  and  relapsed  across  Eternity, 

182 


BOOK    VI 


Timed  to  the  pulse  of  aeons.     All  their  world 
Seemed  strange  as  unto  us  the  great  new  heavens 
And  glittering  shores,  if  on  some  aery  bark 
To  Saturn's  coasts  we  came  and  traced  no  more 
The  tiny  gleam  of  our  familiar  earth 
Far  off,  but  heard  tremendous  oceans  roll 
Round  unimagined  continents,  and  saw 
Terrible  mountains  unto  which  our  Alps 
Were  less  than  mole-hills,  and  such  gaunt  ravines 
Cleaving  them  and  such  cataracts  roaring  down 
As  burst  the  gates  of  our  earth-moulded  senses 
Pour  the  eternal  glory  on  our  souls, 
And,  while  ten  thousand  chariots  bring  the  dawn, 
Hurl  us  poor  midgets  trembling  to  our  knees. 
Glory  and  glamour  and  rapture  of  lucid  air 
Ice  cold,  with  subtle  colours  of  the  sky 
Embraced  her  broken  spars,  belted  her  hulk 
With  brilliance,  while  she  dipped  her  jacinth  beak 
In  waves  of  mounded  splendour,  and  sometimes 
A  great  ice-mountain  flashed  and  floated  by 
Throned  on  the  waters,  pinnacled  and  crowned 
With  all  the  smouldering  jewels  in  the  world; 
Or  in  the  darkness,  glimmering  berg  on  berg, 

183 


DRAKE 

All  emerald  to  the  moon,  went  by  like  ghosts 
Whispering  to  the  South. 

There,  as  they  lay, 

Waiting  a  wind  to  fill  the  stiffened  sails, 
Their  hearts  remembered  that  in  England  now 
The  Spring  was  nigh,  and  in  that  lonely  sea 
The  skilled  musicians  filled  their  eyes  with  home. 

SONG 

i 

It  is  the  Spring-tide  now! 
Under  the  hawthorn  bough 

The  milkmaid  goes: 
Her  eyes  are  violets  blue 
Washed  with  the  morning  dew, 
Her  mouth  a  rose. 

It  is  the  Spring-tide  now. 

II 

The  lanes  are  growing  sweet, 
The  lambkins  frisk  and  bleat 

In  all  the  meadows: 
The  glossy  dappled  kine 
184 


BOOK    VI 


Blink  in  the  warm  sunshine, 
Cooling  their  shadows.  \ 
It  is  the  Spring-tide  now. 

Ill 

Soon  hand  in  sunburnt  hand 
Thro'  God's  green  fairyland, 

England,  our  home, 
Whispering  as  they  stray 
Adown  the  primrose  way, 

Lovers  will  roam. 

It  is  the  Spring-tide  now. 

And  then,  with  many  a  chain  of  linked  sweetness, 
Harmonious  gold,  they  drew  their  hearts  and  souls 
Back,  back  to  England,  thoughts  of  wife  and  child, 
Mother  and  sweetheart  and  the  old  companions, 
The  twisted  streets  of  London  and  the  deep 
Delight  of  Devon  lanes,  all  softly  voiced 
In  words  or  cadences,  made  them  breathe  hard 
And  gaze  across  the  everlasting  sea, 
Craving  for  that  small  isle  so  far  away. 

185 


DRAKE 


SONG 

i 
O  you  beautiful  land, 

Deep-bosomed  with  beeches  and  bright 

With  the  flowery  largesse  of  May 
Sweet  from  the  palm  of  her  hand 

Out-flung,  till  the  hedges  grew  white 
As  the  green-arched  billows  with  spray. 

II 

White  from  the  fall  of  her  feet 
The  daisies  awake  in  the  sun ! 

Cliff-side  and  valley  and  plain 
With  the  breath  of  the  thyme  growing  sweet 
Laugh,  for  the  Spring  is  begun ; 

And  Love  hath  turned  homeward  again. 
O  you  beautiful  land!  &c. 

Ill 

Where  should  the  home  be  of  Love, 

But  there,  where  the  hawthorn-tree  blows, 
And  the  milkmaid  trips  out  with  her  pail, 
186 


BOOK    VI 


And  the  skylark  in  heaven  above 
Sings,  till  the  West  is  a  rose 
And  the  East  is  a  nightingale? 
O  you  beautiful  land!  &c. 

IV 

There  where  the  sycamore  trees 
Are  shading  the  satin-skinned  kine, 
And  oaks,  whose  brethren  of  old 
Conquered  the  strength  of  the  seas, 
Grow  broad  in  the  sunlight  and  shine 
Crowned  with  their  cressets  of  gold; 
O  you  beautiful  land!  &c. 

V 

Deep-bosomed  with  beeches  and  bright 
With  rose-coloured  cloudlets  above ; 

Billowing  broad  and  grand 
Where  the  meadows  with  blossom  are  white 
For  the  foot-fall,  the  foot-fall  of  Love. 
O  you  beautiful  land! 

VI 

How  should  we  sing  of  thy  beauty, 
England,  mother  of  men, 
187 


DRAKE 


We  that  can  look  in  thine  eyes 
And  see  there  the  splendour  of  duty 
Deep  as  the  depth  of  their  ken, 
Wide  as  the  ring  of  thy  skies. 

VII 

O  you  beautiful  land, 

Deep-bosomed  with  beeches  and  bright 

With  the  flowery  largesse  of  May 
Sweet  from  the  palm  of  her  hand 
Out-flung,  till  the  hedges  grew  white 
As  the  green-arched  billows  with  spray. 
O  you  beautiful  land! 

I 

And  when  a  fair  wind  rose  again,  there  seemed 

No  hope  of  passage  by  that  fabled  way 
Northward,  and  suddenly  Drake  put  down  his 

helm 

And,  with  some  wondrous  purpose  in  his  eyes, 
Turned  Southward  once  again,  until  he  found 
A  lonely  natural  harbour  on  the  coast 
Near  San  Francisco,  where  the  cliffs  were  white 
Like  those  of  England,  and  the  soft  soil  teemed 

1 88 


BOOK    VI 


With    gold.     There    they   careened   the    Golden 

Hynde— 

Her  keel  being  thick  with  barnacles  and  weeds — 
And  built  a  fort  and  dockyard  to  refit 
Their  little  wandering  home,  not  half  so  large 
As  many  a  coasting  barque  to-day  that  scarce 
Would  cross  the  Channel,  yet  she  had  swept  the 

seas 

Of  half  the  world,  and  even  now  prepared 
For  new  adventures  greater  than  them  all. 
And  as  the  sound  of  chisel  and  hammer  broke 
The  stillness  of  that  shore,  shy  figures  came, 
Keen-faced    and    grave-eyed    Indians,    from    the 

woods 

To  bow  before  the  strange  white-faced  newcomers 
As  gods.     Whereat  the  chaplain  much  aghast 
Persuaded  them  with  signs  and  broken  words 
And  grunts  that  even  Drake  was  but  a  man, 
Whom  none  the  less  the  savages  would  crown 
With  woven  flowers  and  barbarous  ritual 
King  of  New  Albion — so  the  seamen  called 
That  land,  remembering  the  white  cliffs  of  home. 
Much  they  implored,  with  many  a  sign  and  cry, 

189 


DRAKE 


Which  by  the  rescued  slaves  upon  the  prize 
Were  part  interpreted,  that  Drake  would  stay 
And  rule  them;  and  the  vision  of  the  great 
Empire  of  Englishmen  arose  and  flashed 
A  moment  round  them,  on  that  lonely  shore. 
A  small  and  weather-beaten  band  they  stood, 
Bronzed  seamen  by  the  laughing  rescued  slaves, 
Ringed  with  gigantic  loneliness  and  saw 
An  Empire  that  should  liberate  the  world; 
A  power  before  the  lightning  of  whose  arms 
Darkness  should  die  and  all  oppression  cease; 
A  Federation  of  the  strong  and  weak, 
Whereby  the  weak  were  strengthened  and  the 

strong 

Made  stronger  in  the  increasing  good  of  all ; 
A  gathering  up  of  one  another's  loads; 
A  turning  of  the  wasteful  rage  of  war 
To  accomplish  large  and  fruitful  tasks  of  peace, 
Even  as  the  strength  of  some  great  stream  is  turned 
To  grind  the  corn  for  bread.    E'en  thus  on 

England 
That  splendour  dawned  which  these  in  dreams 

foresaw 

190 


BOOK    VI 


And  saw  not  with  their  living  eyes,  but  thou, 
England,  mayst  lift  up  eyes  at  last  and  see, 
Who,  like  that  angel  of  the  Apocalypse, 
Hast  set  one  foot  upon  thy  sea-girt  isle, 
The  other  upon  the  waters,  and  canst  raise 
Now,  if  thou  wilt,  above  the  assembled  nations, 
The  trumpet  of  deliverance  to  thy  lips. 

•  •  •  •  ••  •  •  • ' 

At  last  their  task  was  done,  the  Golden  Hynde 
Undocked,  her  white  wings  hoisted;  and  away 
Westward  they  swiftly  glided  from  that  shore 
Where,  with  a  wild  lament,  their  Indian  friends, 
Knee-deep  i'  the  creaming  foam,  all  stood  at  gaze, 
Like  men  that  for  one  moment  in  their  lives 
Have  seen  a  mighty  drama  cross  their  path 
And  played  upon  the  stage  of  vast  events 
Knowing,  henceforward,  all  their  life  is  nought. 
But  Westward  sped  the  little  Golden  Hynde 
Across  the  uncharted  ocean,  with  no  guide 
But  that  great  homing  cry  of  all  their  hearts. 
Far  out  of  sight  of  land  they  steered,  straight  out 
Across  the  great  Pacific,  in  those  days 
When  even  the  compass  proved  no  trusty  guide, 

191 


DRAKE 


Straight  out  they  struck  in  that  small  bark,  straight 

out 

Week  after  week,  without  one  glimpse  of  aught 
But  heaving  seas,  across  the  uncharted  waste 
Straight  to  the  sunset.     Laughingly  they  sailed, 
With  all  that  gorgeous  booty  in  their  holds, 
A  splendour  dragging  deep  through  seas  of  doom, 
A  prey  to  the  first  great  hurricane  that  blew 
Except  their  God  averted  it.     And  still 
Their  skilled  musicians  cheered  the  way  along 
To  shores  beyond  the  sunset  and  the  sea. 
And  oft  at  nights,  the  yellow  foVsle  lanthorn 
Swung  over  swarthy  singing  faces  grouped 
Within  the  four  small  wooden  walls  that  made 
Their  home  and  shut  them  from  the  unfathomable 
Depths  of  mysterious  gloom  without  that  rolled 
All  round  them;  or  Tom  Moone  would  heartily 

troll 

A  simple  stave  that  struggled  oft  with  thoughts 
Beyond  its  reach,  yet  reached  their  hearts  no  less. 


192 


BOOK    VI 


SONG 

i 
Good  luck  befall  you,  mariners  all 

That  sail  this  world  so  wide! 
Whither  we  go,  not  yet  we  know: 

We  steer  by  wind  and  tide. 
Be  it  right  or  wrong,  I  sing  this  song; 

For  now  it  seems  to  me 
Men  steer  their  souls  throy  rocks  and  shoals 

As  mariners  use  by  sea. 

Chorus :  As  mariners  use  by  sea, 

My  lads, 
As  mariners  use  by  sea! 

II 

And  now  they  plough  to  windward,  now 

They  drive  before  the  gale! 
Now  are  they  hurled  across  the  world 

With  torn  and  tattered  sail; 
Yet,  as  they  will,  they  steer  and  still 

Defy  the  world's  rude  glee: 
Till  death  overwhelm  them,  mast  and  helm, 

They  ride  and  rule  the  sea. 

193 


DRAKE 


Chorus :   They  ride  and  rule  the  sea 

My  lads, 
They  ride  and  rule  the  sea! 

Meantime,  in  England,  Bess  of  Sydenham, 
Drake's  love  and  queen,  being  told  that  Drake  was 

dead, 

And  numbed  with  grief,  obeying  her  father's  will 
That  dreadful  summer  morn  in  bridal  robes 
Had  passed  to  wed  her  father's  choice.     The  sun 
Streamed  smiling  on  her  as  she  went,  half-dazed, 
Amidst  her  smiling  maids.     Nigh  to  the  sea 
The  church  was,  and  the  mellow  marriage  bells 
Mixed  with  its  music.     Far  away,  white  sails 
Spangled  the  sapphire,  white  as  flying  blossoms 
New-fallen  from  her  crown;  but  as  the  glad 
And  sad  procession  neared  the  little  church, 
From  some  strange  ship-of-war,  far  out  at  sea, 
There  came  a  sudden  tiny  puff  of  smoke — 
And  then  a  dull  strange  throb,  a  whistling  hiss, 
And  scarce  a  score  of  yards  away  a  shot 
Ploughed  up  the  turf.     None  knew,   none  ever 

knew 

194 


BOOK    VI 


From  whence  it  came,  whether  a  perilous  jest 

Of  English  seamen,  or  a  wanton  deed 

Of  Spaniards,  or  mere  accident;  but  all 

Her  maids  in  flight  were  scattered.     Bess  awoke 

As  from  a  dream,  crying  aloud — "  'Tis  he, 

'Tis  he  that  sends  this  message.     He  is  not  dead. 

I  will  not  pass  the  porch.     Nay,  take  me  home, 

'Twas  he  that  sent  that  message." 

Nought  availed, 

Her  father's  wrath,  her  mother's  tears,  her  maids' 
Cunning  persuasions,  nought;  home  she  returned, 
And  waited  for  the  dead  to  come  to  life; 
Nor  waited  long;  for  ere  that  month  was  out, 
Rumour  on  rumour  reached  the  coasts  of  England, 
Borne  as  it  seemed  on  sea-birds'  wings,  that  Drake 
Was  on  his  homeward  way. 


195 


BOOK    VII 

THE  imperial  wrath  of  Spain,  one  world 
wide  sea 
Of  furious  pomp  and  flouted  power, 

now  surged 

All  round  this  little  isle,  with  one  harsh  roar 
Deepening    for    Drake's    return — "  The    Golden 

Hynde 
Ye  swore  had  foundered,   Drake  ye  swore  was 

drowned ; 
They  are  on  their  homeward  way !     The  head  of 

Drake ! 

What  answer,  what  account,  what  recompense 
Now  can  ye  yield  our  might  invincible 
Except  the  head  of  Drake,  whose  bloody  deeds 
Have  reddened  the  Pacific,  who  hath  sacked 
Cities  of  gold,  burnt  fleets,  and  ruined  realms, — 
What  answer  but  his  life?  " 

To  which  the  Queen 

Who  saw  the  storm  of  Europe  slowly  rising 

196 


BOOK    VII 


In  awful  menace  o'er  her  wave-beat  throne, 
And  midmost  of  the  storm,  the  ensanguined  robes 
Of  Rome  and  murderous  hand,  grasping  the  Cross 
By  its  great  hilt,  pointing  it  like  a  brand 
Blood-blackened  at  the  throat  of  England,  saw 
Like  skeleton  castles  wrapt  in  rolling  mist 
The  monstrous  engines  and  designs  of  war, 
The  secret  fleets  and  brooding  panoplies 
Philip  prepared,  growing  from  day  to  day 
In  dusk  armipotent  and  embattled  gloom 
Surrounding  her,  replied:  "  The  life  of  Drake, 
If,  on  our  strict  inquiry,  in  due  order 
We  find  that  Drake  have  hurt  our  friends,  mark 

well, 
If  Drake  have  hurt  our  friends,  the  life  of  Drake." 

And  while  the  world  awaited  him,  as  men 
Might  wait  an  earthquake,  quietly  one  grey  morn, 
One  grey  October  morn  of  mist  and  rain 
When  all  the  window-panes  in  Plymouth  dripped 
With  listless  drizzle,  and  only  through  her  streets 
Rumbled  the  death-cart  with  its  dreary  bell 
Monotonously  plangent  (for  the  plague 

197 


DRAKE 


Had  lately  like  a  vampire  sucked  the  veins 
Of  Plymouth  town),  a  little  weed-clogged  ship, 
Grey  as  a  ghost,  glided  into  the  Sound 
And  anchored,  scarce  a  soul  to  see  her  come, 
And  not  an  eye  to  read  the  faded  scroll 
Around  her  battered  prow — the  Golden  Hynde. 
Then,  thro'  the  dumb  grey  misty  listless  port, 
A  rumour  like  the  colours  of  the  dawn 
Streamed  o'er  the  shining  quays,  up  the  wet  streets, 
In  at  the  tavern  doors,  flashed  from  the  panes 
And  turned  them  into  diamonds,  fired  the  pools 
In  every  muddy  lane  with  Spanish  gold, 
Flushed  in  a  thousand  faces,  Drake  is  come ! 
Down  every  crowding  alley  the  urchins  leaped 
Tossing  their  caps,  the  Golden  Hynde  is  come ! 
Fishermen,  citizen,  prentice,  dame  and  maid, 
Fat  justice,  floury  baker,  bloated  butcher, 
Fishwife,  minister  and  apothecary, 
Yea,  even  the  driver  of  the  death-cart,  leaving 
His  ghastly  load,  using  his  dreary  bell 
To  merrier  purpose,  down  the  seething  streets, 
Panting,  tumbling,  jostling,  helter-skelter 
To  the  water-side,  to  the  water-side  they  rushed, 

198 


BOOK    VII 


And  some  knee-deep  beyond  it,  all  one  wild 
Welcome  to  Francis  Drake! 
Wild  kerchiefs  fluttering,  thunderous  hurrahs 
Rolling  from  quay  to  quay,  a  thousand  arms 
Outstretched  to  that  grey  ghostly  little  ship 
At  whose  masthead  the  British  flag  still  flew; 
Then,  over  all,  in  one  tumultuous  tide 
Of  pealing  joy,  the  Plymouth  bells  outclashed 
A  nation's  welcome  home  to  Francis  Drake. 

The  very  Golden  Hynde,  no  idle  dream, 
The  little  ship  that  swept  the  Spanish  Main, 
Carelessly  lying  there,  in  Plymouth  Sound, 
The  Golden  Hynde,  the  wonder  of  the  world, 
A  glory  wrapt  her  greyness,  and  no  boat 
Dared  yet  approach,  save  one,  with  Drake's  close 

friends, 

Who  came  to  warn  him :  "  England  stands  alone 
And  Drake  is  made  the  price  of  England's  peace. 
The  Queen,  perforce,  must  temporise  with  Spain, 
The  Invincible  1     She  hath  forfeited  thy  life 
To  Spain  against  her  will.     Only  by  this 
Rejection  of  thee  as  a  privateer 

199 


DRAKE 


She  averted  instant  war;  for  now  the  menace 

Of  Spain  draws  nigher,  looms  darker  every  hour. 

The  world  is  made  Spain's  footstool.     Philip,  the 

King, 

E'en  now  hath  added  to  her  boundless  power 
Without  a  blow,  the  vast  domains  and  wealth 
Of  Portugal,  and  deadlier  yet,  a  coast 
That  crouches  over  against  us.     Cadiz  holds 
A  huge  Armada,  none  knows  where  to  strike; 
And  even  this  day  a  flying  horseman  brought 
Rumours  that  Spain  hath  landed  a  great  force 
In  Ireland.     Mary  of  Scotland  only  waits 
The  word  to  stab  us  in  the  side  for  Rome. 
The  Queen,  weighed  down  by  Burleigh  and  the 

friends 

Of  peace  at  any  cost,  may  yet  be  driven 
To  make  thy  life  our  ransom,  which  indeed 
She  hath  already  sworn,  or  seemed  to  swear." 


To  whom  Drake  answered,  "  Gloriana  lives; 
And  in  her  life  mine  only  fear  lies  dead, 
Mine  only  fear,  for  England,  not  myself. 
Willing  am  I  and  glad,  as  I  have  lived, 

200 


BOOK    VII 


To  die  for  England's  sake. 
Yet,  lest  the  Queen  be  driven  now  to  restore 
This  cargo  that  I  bring  her — a  world's  wealth, 
The  golden  springs  of  all  the  power  of  Spain, 
The  jewelled  hearts  of  all  those  cruel  realms 
(For  I  have  plucked  them  out)  beyond  the  sea; 
Lest  she  be  driven  to  yield  them  up  again 
For  Rome  and  Rome's  delight,  I  will  warp  out 
Behind  St.  Nicholas'  Island.     The  fierce  plague 
In  Plymouth  shall  be  colour  and  excuse, 
Until  my  courier  return  from  court 
With  Gloriana's  will.     If  it  be  death, 
I'll  out  again  to  sea,  strew  its  rough  floor 
With  costlier  largesses  than  kings  can  throw, 
And,  ere  I  die,  will  singe  the  Spaniard's  beard 
And  set  the  fringe  of  his  imperial  robe 
Blazing  along  his  coasts.     Then  let  him  roll 
His  galleons  round  the  little  Golden  Hynde, 
Bring  her  to  bay,  if  he  can,  on  the  high  seas, 
Ring  us  about  with  thousands,  we'll  not  yield, 
I  and  my  Golden  Hynde,  we  will  go  down, 
With  flag  still  flying  on  the  last  stump  left  us, 
And  all  my  cannon  spitting  out  the  fires 
Of  everlasting  scorn  into  his  face.'* 

201 


DRAKE 


So  Drake  warped  out  the  Golden  Hynde  anew 
Behind  St.  Nicholas'  Island.     She  lay  there, 
The  small  grey-golden  centre  of  the  world 
That  raged  all  round  her,  the  last  hope,  the  star 
Of  Protestant  freedom,  she,  the  outlawed  ship 
Holding  within  her  the  great  head  and  heart 
Of  England's  ocean  power;  and  all  the  fleets 
That  have  enfranchised  earth,  in  that  small  ship, 
Lay  waiting  for  their  doom. 

Past  her  at  night 

Fisher-boats  glided,  wondering  as  they  heard 
In  the  thick  darkness  the  great  songs  they  deemed 
Must  oft  have  risen  from  many  a  lonely  sea; 
For  oft  had  Spaniards  brought  a  rumour  back 
Of  that  strange  pirate  who  in  royal  state 
Sailed  to  a  sound  of  violins,  and  dined 
With  skilled  musicians  round  him,  turning  all 
Battle  and  storm  and  death  into  a  song. 

SONG 

The  same  Sun  is  o'er  us, 
The  same  Love  shall  find  us, 
202 


BOOK    VII 


The  same  and  none  other 

Wherever  we  be; 
With  the  same  hope  before  us, 
The  same  home  behind  us, 
England,  our  mother, 

Ringed  round  with  the  sea. 

No  land  in  the  ring  of  it 
Now,  all  around  us 
Only  the  splendid 

Resurging  unknown; 
How  should  we  sing  of  it, 
This  that  hath  found  us 
By  the  great  stars  attended 
At  midnight,  alone? 

Our  highway  none  knoweth, 

Yet  our  blood  hath  discerned  it! 
Clear,  clear  is  our  path  now 

Whose  foreheads  are  free, 
Where  the  hurricane  bloweth 
Our  spirits  have  learned  it, 

'Tis  the  highway  of  wrath,  now, 
The  storm's  way,  the  sea. 
203 


DRAKE 


When  the  waters  lay  breathless 
Gazing  at  Hesper 

Guarding  that  glorious 

Fruitage  of  gold, 
Heard  we  the  deathless 
Wonderful  whisper 
We  follow,  victorious 
To-night,  as  of  old. 

Ah,  the  broad  miles  of  it 
White  with  the  onset 

Of  waves  without  number 

Warring  for  glee; 
Ah,  the  soft  smiles  of  it 
Down  to  the  sunset, 
Sacred  for  slumber 

The  swan's  bath,  the  sea ! 

When  the  breakers  charged  thundering 
In  thousands  all  round  us 
With  a  lightning  of  lances 

Up-hurtled  on  high, 
When  the  stout  ships  were  sundering 
A  rapture  hath  crowned  us 
204 


BOOK    VII 


Like  the  wild  light  that  dances 
On  the  crests  that  flash  by. 

Our  highway  none  knoweth, 

Yet  our  blood  hath  discerned  it! 
Clear,  clear  is  our  path  now 

Whose  foreheads  are  free, 
Where  Euroclydon  bloweth 
Our  spirits  have  learned  it, 

'Tls  the  highway  of  wrath,  now, 
The  storm's  way,  the  sea! 

Who  now  will  follow  us 

Where  England's  flag  leadeth  us, 
Where  gold  not  inveigles, 
Nor  statesmen  betray? 
Tho'  the  deep  midnight  swallow  us, 
Let  her  cry  when  she  needeth  us, 
We  return,  her  sea-eagles, 
The  hurricane's  way. 

For  the  same  Sun  is  o'er  us, 
The  same  Love  shall  find  us, 
The  same  and  none  other 
205 


DRAKE 


Wherever  we  be; 
With  the  same  hope  before  us, 
The  same  home  behind  us, 
England,  our  mother, 

Ringed  round  with  the  sen. 

So  six  days  passed,  and  on  the  seventh  returned 
The  courier,  with  a  message  from  the  Queen 
Summoning  Drake  to  court,  bidding  him  bring 
Also  such  curious  trifles  of  his  voyage 
As  might  amuse  her,  also  be  of  good  cheer 
She  bade  him,  and  rest  well  content  his  life 
In  Gloriana's  hands  were  safe:  so  Drake 
Laughingly  landed  with  his  war-bronzed  crew 
Amid  the  wide-eyed  throng  on  Plymouth  beach 
And  loaded  twelve  big  pack-horses  with  pearls 
Beyond  all  price,  diamonds,  crosses  of  gold, 
Rubies  that  smouldered  once  for  Aztec  kings, 
And  great  dead  Incas'  gem-encrusted  crowns. 
Also,  he  said,  we'll  add  a  sack  or  twain 
Of  gold  doubloons,  pieces  of  eight  moidores, 
And  such-like  Spanish  trash,  for  those  poor  lords 
At  court,  lilies  that  toil  not  neither  spin, 

206 


BOOK    VII 


Wherefore,  methinks  their  purses  oft  grow  lean 
In  these  harsh  times.     'Twere  even  as  well  their 

tongues 
Wagged  in  our  favour,  now,  as  in  our  blame. 

Six  days  thereafter  a  fearful  whisper  reached 
Mendoza,  plenipotentiary  of  Spain 
In  London,  that  the  pirate  Drake  was  now 
In  secret  conference  with  the  Queen ;  nay  more, 
That  he,  the  Master-thief  of  the  golden  world, 
Drake,  even  he,  that  bloody  buccaneer, 
Had  six  hours1  audience  with  her  Majesty 
Daily — nay,  more,  walked  with  her  in  her  garden 
Alone,  among  the  fiery  Autumn  leaves, 
Talking  of  God  knows  what,  and  suddenly 
The  temporizing  diplomatic  voice 
Of  caution  he  was  wont  to  expect  from  England 
And  blandly  accept  as  his  imperial  due 
Changed  to  a  ringing  key  of  firm  resolve, 
Resistance — nay,  defiance.     For  when  he  came 
Demanding  audience  of  the  Queen,  behold ! 
Her  officers  of  state  with  mouths  awry 
Informed  the  high  ambassador  of  Spain, 

207 


DRAKE 


Despite  his  pomp  and  circumstance,  the  Queen 
Could  not  receive  him,  being  in  conference 
With  some  rough  seaman,  pirate,  what  you  will, 
A  fellow  made  of  bronze,  a  buccaneer, 
Maned  like  a  lion,  bearded  like  a  pard, 
With  hammered  head,  clamped  jaws  and  great 

deep  eyes 

That  burned  with  fierce  blue  colours  of  the  brine, 
And  liked  not  Spain — Drake!     'Twas  the  very 

name, 

One  Francis  Drake !     A  Titan  that  had  stood, 
Thundering    commands    against    the    thundering 

heavens, 
Of    lightning-shattered,    storm-swept    decks    and 

drunk 

Great  draughts  of  glory  from  the  rolling  sea, 
El  Draque !     El  Draque !     Nor  could  she  promise 

aught 

To  Spain's  ambassador,  nor  see  his  face 
Again,  while  yet  one  Spanish  musketeer 
Remained  in  Ireland. 

Vainly  the  Spaniard  raged 
Of  restitution,  recompense;  for  now 

208 


BOOK    VII 


Had  Drake  brought  up  the  little  Golden  Hynde 
To  London,  and  the  rumour  of  her  wealth 
Out-topped  the  wild  reality.     The  crew 
Were  princes  as  they  swaggered  down  the  streets 
In  weather-beaten  splendour.     Out  of  their  doors 
To  wonder  and  stare  the  jostling  citizens  ran 
When  They  went  by ;  and  through  the  length  and 

breadth 

Of  England,  now,  the  gathering  glory  of  life 
Shone    like    the    dawn.     O'er    hill    and    dale    it 

streamed, 

Dawn,  everlasting  and  almighty  dawn, 
Making  a  golden  pomp  of  every  oak — 
Had  not  its  British  brethren  swept  the  seas? — 
In  each  remotest  hamlet,  by  the  hearth, 
The  cart,  the  grey  church-porch,  the  village  pump, 
By  meadow  and  mill  and  old  manorial  hall, 
By  turnpike  and  by  tavern,  farm  and  forge, 
Men  staved  the  crimson  vintage  of  romance 
And  held  it  up  against  the  light  and  drank  it, 
And  with  it  drank  confusion  to  the  wrath 
That  menaced  England,  but  eternal  honour, 
While  blood  ran  in  their  veins,  to  Francis  Drake. 

209 


BOOK    VIII 

MEANWHILE,  young  Bess  of  Syden- 
ham,  the  queen 
Of  Drake's  deep  heart,  emprisoned 

in  her  home, 

Fenced  by  her  father's  angry  watch  and  ward 
Lest  he — the  poor  plebeian  dread  of  Spain, 
Shaker  of  nations,  king  of  the  untamed  seas — • 
Might  win  some  word  with  her,  sweet  Bess,  the 

flower, 

Triumphant  o'er  their  rusty  heraldries, 
Waited  her  lover,  as  in  ancient  tales 
The  pale  princess  from  some  grey  wizard's  tower 
Midmost  the  deep  sigh  of  enchanted  woods 
Looks  for  the  starry  flash  of  her  knight's  shield; 
Or  on  the  further  side  o'  the  magic  West 
Sees  pushing  through  the  ethereal  golden  gloom 
Some  blurred  black  prow,  with  loaded  colours 

coarse, 

.Clouded  with  sunsets  of  a  mortal  sea, 

210 


BOOK    VIII 


And  rich  with  earthly  crimson.  She,  with  lips 
Apart,  still  waits  the  shattering  golden  thrill 
When  it  shall  grate  the  coasts  of  Fairyland. 

Only,  to  Bess  of  Sydenham,  there  came 

No  sight  or  sound  to  break  that  frozen  spell 

And  lonely  watch,  no  message  from  her  love, 

Or  none  that  reached  her  restless  helpless  hands. 

Only  the  general  rumour  of  the  world 

Borne  to  her  by  the  gossip  of  her  maid 

Kept  the  swift  pictures  flashing  through  her  brain 

Of  how  the  Golden  Hynde  was  hauled  ashore 

At  Deptford  through  a  sea  of  exultation, 

And  by  the  Queen's  command  was  now  set  up 

For  an  everlasting  memory! 

Of  how  the  Queen  with  subtle  statecraft  still 

Kept  Spain  at  arm's  length,  dangling,  while  she 

played 

At  fast  and  loose  with  France,  whose  embassy, 
Arriving  with  the  marriage  treaty,  found 
(And  trembled  at  her  daring,  since  the  wrath 
Of  Spain  seemed,  in  their  eyes,  to  flake  with  foam 
The  storm-beat  hulk)  a  gorgeous  banquet  spread 


DRAKE 


To  greet  them  on  that  very  Golden  Hynde 
Which  sacked  the  Spanish  Main,  a  gorgeous  feast, 
The  like  of  which  old  England  had  not  seen 
Since  the  bluff  days  of  boisterous  King  Hal, 
Great   shields   of  brawn  with  mustard,   roasted 

swans, 

Haunches  of  venison,  roasted  chines  of  beef, 
And  chewets  baked,  big  olive-pyes  thereto, 
And  sallets  mixed  with  sugar  and  cinnamon, 
White  wine,  rose-water,  and  candied  eringoes. 
There,  on  the  outlawed  ship,  whose  very  name 
Rang  like  a  blasphemy  in  the  imperial  ears 
Of  Spain  (its  every  old  worm-eaten  plank 
Being  scored  with  scorn  and  courage  that  not  storm 
Nor  death,  nor   all  their  Inquisition  racks, 
The  white-hot  irons  and  bloody  branding  whips 
That  scarred  the  back  of  Rome's  pale 

galley-slaves, 

Her  captured  English  seamen,  ever  could  daunt), 
There  with  huge  Empires  waiting  for  one  word, 
One  breath  of  colour  and  excuse,  to  leap 
Like  wolves  at  the  naked  throat  of  her  small  isle, 
There  in  the  eyes  of  the  staggered  world  she  stood, 

212 


BOOK    VIII 


Great  Gloriana,  while  the  live  decks  reeled 
With  flash  of  jewels  and  flush  of  rustling  silks, 
She  stood  with  Drake,  the  corsair,  and  her  people 
Surged  like  a  sea  around.     There  did  she  give 
Open  defiance  with  her  agate  smile 
To  Spain.     "  Behold  this  pirate,  now,"  she  cried, 
"  Whose  head  my  Lord,  the  Invincible,  Philip  of 

Spain 
Demands  from  England.     Kneel  down,   Master 

Drake, 

Kneel  down ;  for  now  have  I  this  gilded  sword 
Wherewith  to  strike  it  off.     Nay,  thou  my  lord 
Ambassador  of  France,  since  I  be  woman, 
And  squeamish  at  the  sight  of  blood,  give  thou 
The  accolade.     With  that  jest  she  gave  the  hilt 
(Thus,  even  in  boldness,  playing  a  crafty  part, 
And    dangling    France    before   the    adventurous 

deed) 

To  Marchaumont ;  and  in  the  face  of  Europe, 
With  that  huge  fleet  in  Cadiz  and  the  whole 
World-power  of  Spain  crouching  around  her  isle, 
Knighted  the  master-thief  of  the  unknown  world, 
Sir  Francis  Drake. 

213 


DRAKE 

And  then  the  rumour  came 
Of  vaster  privateerings  planned  by  Drake 
Against  the  coasts  of  Philip ;  but  held  in  check 
And  fretting  at  the  leash,  as  ever  the  Queen 
Clung  to  her  state-craft,  while  Drake's  enemies 
Worked  in  the  dark  against  him.     Spain  had  set 
An  emperor's  ransom  on  his  life.     At  home 
John  Doughty,  treacherous  brother  of  that  traitor 
Who  met  his  doom  by  Drake's  own  hand,  intrigued 
With  Spain  abroad  and  Spain's  dark  emissaries 
At  home  to  avenge  his  brother.     Burleigh  still 
Beset  Drake's  path  with  pitfalls :  treacherous  greed 
For  Spain's  blood-money  daggered  all  the  dark 
Around  him,  and  John  Doughty  without  cease 
Sought  to  make  use  of  all;  until,  by  chance, 
Drake  gat  the  proof  of  treasonable  intrigue 
With  Spain,  against  him,  up  to  the  deadly  hilt, 
And  hurled  him  into  the  Tower. 

Many  a  night 

She  sat  by  that  old  casement  nigh  the  sea 
And  heard  its  ebb  and  flow.    With  soul  erect 
And  splendid  now  she  waited,  yet  there  came 
No  message ;  and,  she  thought,  he  hath  seen  at  last 

214 


s> 

€ 


H 

0s 


BOOK    VIII 


My  little  worth.     And  when  her  maiden  sang, 
With  white  throat  throbbing  softly  in  the  dusk 
And  fingers  gently  straying  o'er  the  lute, 
As  was  her  wont  at  twilight,  some  old  song 
Of  high  disdainful  queens  and  lovers  pale 
Pining  a  thousand  years  before  their  feet, 
She  thought,  "  Oh,  if  my  lover  loved  me  yet, 
My  heart  would  break  for  joy  to  welcome  him: 
Perchance  his  true  pride  will  not  let  him  come, 
Since  false  pride  barred  him  out  " ;  and  yet  again 
She  burned  with  shame,  thinking,  "  to  him  such 

pride 

Were  matter  for  a  jest     Ah  no,  he  hath  seen 
My  little  worth."     Even  so,  one  night  she  sat, 
One  dark  rich  summer  night,  thinking  him  far 
Away,  wrapped  in  the  multitudinous  cares 
Of  one  that  seemed  the  steersman  of  the  State 
Now,  thro7  the  storm  of  Europe;  while  her  maid 
Sang  to  the  lute,  and  soft  sea-breezes  brought 
Wreathed  scents  and  sighs  of  secret  waves  and 

flowers 
Warm  through  the  casement's  muffling  jasmine 

bloom. 

215 


DRAKE 


SONG 

i 

Nymphs  and  naiads,  come  away, — 

Love  lies  dead! 

Cover  the  cast-back  golden  head, 
Cover  the  lovely  limbs  with  may, 

And  with  fairest  boughs  of  green, 
And  many  a  rose-wreathed  briar  spray; 
But  let  no  hateful  yew  be  seen 
Where  Love  lies  dead. 

II 

Let  not  the  queen  that  would  not  hear, 

(Love  lies  dead!) 
Or  beauty  that  refused  to  save, 
Exult  in  one  dejected  tear; 
But  gather  the  glory  of  the  year, 
The  pomp  and  glory  of  the  year, 
The  triumphing  glory  of  the  year, 
And  softly,  softly,  softly  shed 
Its  light  and  fragrance  round  the  grave 
Where  Love  lies  dead. 
216 


BOOK    VIII 


The  song  ceased.     Far  away  the  great  sea  slept, 

And  all  was  very  still.     Only  hard  by 

One  bird-throat  poured  its  passion  through  the 

gloom, 

And  the  whole  night  seemed  breathlessly  listening, 
As  though  earth's  fairies,  at  the  moon's  command, 
Had  muffled  all  the  flower-bells  in  the  world, 
That  God  might  hear  His  nightingale. 

A  twig 
Snapped,  the  song  ceased,  the  intense  dumb  night 

was  all 

One  passion  of  expectation — as  if  that  song 
Were  prelude,  and  ere  long  the  heavens  and  earth 
Would  burst  into  one  great  triumphant  psalm. 
The  song  ceased  only  as  if  that  small  bird-throat 
Availed  no  further.     Would  the  next  great  chord 
Ring  out  from  harps  in  flaming  seraph  hands 
Ranged  through  the  sky?     The  night  watched, 

breathless,   dumb. 

Bess  listened.     Once  again  a  dry  twig  snapped 
Beneath  her  casement,  and  a  face  looked  up, 
Draining  her  face  of  blood,  of  sight,  of  life, 
Whispering,  a  voice  from  far  beyond  the  stars, 

217 


^ DRAKE 

Whispering,  unutterable  joy,  the  whole 
Glory  of  life  and  death  in  one  small  word — 
Sweetheart! 

The  jasmine  at  her  casement  shook: 
She  knew  no  more  than  he  was  at  her  side; 
His  arms  were  round  her,  and  his  breath  beat 

warm 
Against  her  cheek. 

•  •  •  •  • 

Suddenly,  nigh  the  house, 

A  deep-mouthed  mastiff  bayed  and  a  foot  crunched 
The  gravel.     "Ah,  hark!  they  are  watching  for 

thee,"  she  cried. 
He  laughed:  "There's  half  of  Europe  on  the 

watch 

Outside  for  my  poor  head.     'Tis  cosier  here 
With  thee;  but  now" — his  face  grew  grave,  he 

drew 

A  silken  ladder  from  out  his  doublet — "  quick, 
Before  yon  good  gamekeeper  rounds  the  house 
We  must  be  down."     And  ere  the  words  were  out 
Bess  reached  the  path,  and  Drake  was  at  her  side. 
Then  into  the  star-stabbed  shadow  of  the  woods 

218 


BOOK    VIII 


They  sped,  his  arm  around  her.     Suddenly 

She  drew  back  with  a  cry,  as  four  grim  faces, 

With  hand  to  forelock,  glimmered  in  their  way. 

Laughing  she  saw  their  storm-beat  friendly  smile 

Welcome  their  doughty  captain  in  this  new 

Adventure.     Far  away,  once  more  they  heard 

The  mastiff  bay;  then  nearer,  as  if  his  nose 

Were  down  upon  the  trail ;  and  then  a  cry 

As  of  a  hot  pursuit.     They  reached  the  brook, 

Hurrying  to  the  deep.     Drake   lifted  Bess 

In   his    arms,    and   down   the    watery   bed   they 

splashed 
To  baffle  the  clamouring  hunt.     Then  out  of  the 

woods 
They  came,  on  the  seaward  side,  and  Bess,  with 

a  shiver, 

Saw  starlight  flashing  from  bare  cutlasses, 
As  the  mastiff  bayed  still  nearer.     Swiftlier  now 
They  passed  along  the  bare  blunt  cliffs,  and  saw 
The  furrow  ploughed  by  that  strange  cannon-shot 
Which  saved  this  hour  for  Bess;  down  to  the 

beach 

And  starry  foam  that  churned  the  silver  gravel 

219 


DRAKE 

Around  an  old  black  lurching  boat,  a  strange 
Grim  Charon's  wherry  for  two  lovers'  flight, 
Guarded  by  old  Tom  Moone.  Drake  took  her 

hand, 

And  with  one  arm  around  her  waist,  her  breath 
Warm  on  his  cheek  for  a  moment,  in  she  stepped 
Daintily  o'er  the  gunwale  and  took  her  seat, 
His  throned  princess,  beside  him  at  the  helm, 
Backed    by    the    glittering    waves,    his    throned 

princess, 
With    jewelled    throat    and    glorious    hair    that 

seemed 

Flashing  back  scents  and  colours  to  a  sea 
Which  lived  but  to  reflect  her  loveliness. 

Then,  all  together,  with  their  brandished  oars 
The  seamen  thrust  as  a  heavy  mounded  wave 
Lifted  the  boat;  and  up  the  flowering  breast 
Of   the   next   they    soared,    then   settled   at   the 

thwarts, 

And  the  fierce  water  boiled  before  their  blades, 
While  with  Drake's  iron  hand  upon  the  helm 
They  plunged  and  ploughed  across  the  starlit  seas 

220 


BOOK    VIII 


To  where  a  small  black  lugger  at  anchor  swung, 
Dipping  her  rakish  bows  F  the  liquid  moon. 
Small  was  she,  but  not  f angless ;  for  Bess  saw, 
With  half  a  tremor,  the  dumb  protective  grin 
Of  four  grim  guns  above  the  tossing  boat. 
But  ere  his  seamen  or  his  sweetheart  knew 
What  power,  as  of  a  wind,  bore  them  along, 
Anchor  was  up,  the  sails  were  broken  out, 
And  as  they  scudded  down  the  dim  grey  coast 
Of  a  new  enchanted  world  (for  now  had  Love 
Made   all  things  new  and  strange)    the  skilled 

musicians 

Upraised,  at  Drake's  command,  a  song  to  cheer 
Their  midnight  path  across  that  faery  sea. 

SONG 

i 

Sweet,  what  is  love?     'Tis  not  the  crown  of  kings, 
Nay,  nor  the  fire  of  white  seraphic  wings ! 
Is  it  a  child's  heart  leaping  while  he  sings? 

Even  so  say  I ; 

Even  so  say  I. 
221 


DRAKE 

ii 

Love  like  a  child  around  our  world  doth  run, 
Happy,  happy,  happy  for  all  that  God  hath  done, 
Glad  of  all  the  little  leaves  dancing  in  the  sun, 

Even  so  say  I ; 

Even  so  say  I. 

Ill 

Sweet,  what  is  love?     'Tis  not  the  burning  bliss 
Angels  know  in  heaven  I     God  blows  the  world 

a  kiss 

Wakes  on  earth  a  wild-rose  1     Ah,  who  knows  not 
this? 

Even  so  say  I ; 
Even  so  say  I. 

IV 

Love,  love  is  kind !  Can  it  be  far  away, 
Lost  in  a  light  that  blinds  our  little  day? 
Seems  it  a  great  thing?  Sweetheart,  answer  nay; 

Even  so  say  I ; 

Even  so  say  I. 
222 


BOOK    VIII 


v 

Sweet,  what  is  love?     The  dust  beneath  our  feet, 
Whence  breaks  the  rose  and  all  the  flowers  that 

greet 
April  and  May  with  lips  and  heart  so  sweet; 

Even  so  say  I ; 

Even  so  say  I. 

VI 

Love  is  the  dust  whence  Eden  grew  so  fair, 

Dust  of  the  dust  that  set  my  lover  there, 

Ay,  and  wrought  the  gloriole  of  Eve's  gold  hair, 

Even  so  say  I ; 

Even  so  say  I. 

VII 

Also  the  springing  spray,  the  little  topmost  flower 
Swung  by  the  bird  that  sings  a  little  hour, 
Earth's   climbing   spray   into  the   heaven's   blue 
bower, 

Even  so  say  I ; 
Even  so  say  I. 
223 


DRAKE 


And  stranger,  ever  stranger,  grew  the  night 
Around  those  twain,  for  whom  the  fleecy  moon 
Was  but  a  mightier  Cleopatra's  pearl 
Dissolving  in  the  rich  dark  wine  of  night, 
While  'mid  the  tenderer  talk  of  eyes  and  hands 
And  whispered  nothings,  his  imperial  dreams 
Rolled  round  their  gloomy  barge,  robing  its  hulk 
With  splendours  Rome  and  Egypt  never  knew. 
Old  ocean  was  his  Nile,  his  mighty  queen 
An  English  maiden  purer  than  the  dawn, 
His  cause  the  cause  of  Freedom,  his  reward 
The  glory  of  England.     Strangely  simple,  then, 
Simple  as  life  and  death,  anguish  and  love, 
To  Bess  appeared  those  mighty  dawning  dreams, 
Whereby  he  shaped  the  pageant  of  the  world 
To  a  new  purpose,  strangely  simple  all 
Those  great  new  waking  tides  i'  the  world's  great 

soul 

That  set  towards  the  fall  of  Spain  and  Rome 
Behind  a  thunderous  roar  of  ocean  triumph 
O'er  burning  ships  and  shattered  fleets,  while 

England 

Grasped  with  sure  hands  the  sceptre  of  the  sea, 

224 


BOOK    VIII 


That  untamed  realm  of  Liberty  which  none 

Had  looked  upon  as  aught  but  wilderness 

Ere  this,  or  even  dreamed  of  as  the  seat 

Of  power  and  judgment  and  high  sovereignty 

Whereby  all  nations  at  the  last  should  make 

One  brotherhood,  and  war  should  be  no  more. 

And  ever,  as  the  vision  broadened  out, 

The  sense  of  some  tremendous  change  at  hand, 

The  approach  of  vast  Armadas  and  the  dawn 

Of  battle,  reddening  the  diviner  dawn 

With  clouds,  confused  it,  till  once  more  the  song 

Rang  out  triumphant  o'er  the  glittering  sea. 

SONG 
I 

Ye  that  follow  the  vision 

Of  the  world's  weal  afar. 
Have  ye  met  with  derision 

And  the  red  laugh  of  war; 
Yet  the  thunder  shall  not  hurt  you, 

Nor  the  battle-storms  dismay; 
Tho'  the  sun  in  heaven  desert  you, 

"  Love  will  find  out  the  way." 

22$ 


DRAKE 


ii 

When  the  pulse  of  hope  falters, 

When  the  fire  flickers  low 
On  your  faith's  crumbling  altars, 

And  the  faithless  gods  go; 
When  the  fond  hope  ye  cherished 

Cometh,  kissing,  to  betray; 
When  the  last  star  hath  perished, 

"  Love  will  find  out  the  way" 

III 
When  the  last  dream  bereaveth  you, 

And  the  heart  turns  to  stone; 
When  the  last  comrade  leaveth  you 

In  the  desert  alone, 
With  the  whole  world  before  you 

Clad  in  battle-array, 
And  the  starless  night  o'er  you, 

"  Love  will  find  out  the  way" 

IV 

Your  dreamers  may  dream  it 
The  shadow  of  a  dream, 
226 


BOOK    VIII 


Your  sages  may  deem  it 

A  bubble  on  the  stream, — 
Yet  our  kingdom  draweth  nigher 

With  each  dawn  and  every  day; 
Through  the  earthquake  and  the  fire 

"  Love  will  find  out  the  way." 

V 

Love  will  find  it,  tho'  the  nations 

Rise  up  blind,  as  of  old, 
And  the  new  generations 

Wage  their  warfares  of  gold; 
Tho'  they  trample  child  and  mother 

As  red  clay  into  the  clay, 
Where  brother  wars  with  brother, 

"  Love  will  find  out  the  way" 

Dawn,  ever  bearing  some  divine  increase 
Of  beauty,  love,  and  wisdom  round  the  world, 
Dawn,  like  a  wild-rose  in  the  fields  of  heaven 
Washed  grey  with  dew,   awoke,  and  found  the 

barque 

At  anchor  in  a  little  land-locked  bay. 

227 


DRAKE 


A  crisp  breeze  blew,  and  all  the  living  sea 
Beneath  the  flower-soft  colours  of  the  sky, 
Now  like  a  myriad-petalled  rose  and  now 
Innumerably  scalloped  into  shells 
Of  rosy  fire,  with  dwindling  wrinkles  edged 
Fainter  and  fainter  to  the  unruffled  glow 
And  soft  white  pallor  of  the  distant  deep, 
Shone  with  a  mystic  beauty  for  those  twain 
Who   watched  the  gathering  glory;   and,   in   an 

hour, 

Drake  and  sweet  Bess,  attended  by  a  guard 
Of  four  swart  seamen,  with  bare  cutlasses, 
And  by  the  faithful  eyes  of  old  Tom  Moone, 
Went  up  the  rough  rock-steps  and  twisted  street 
Oh,  the  small  white  sparkling  seaport,  tow'rds  the 

church 

Where,  hand  in  hand,  before  God's  altar  they, 
With  steadfast  eyes,  did  plight  eternal  troth, 
And  so  were  wedded.     Never  a  chime  of  bells 
Had  they;  but  as  they  passed  from  out  the  porch 
Between  the  sleeping  graves,  a  skylark  soared 
Above  the  world  in  an  ecstasy  of  song, 
And,  quivering  heavenwards,  lost  himself  in  light. 

228 


BOOK    IX 

NOW  like  a  white-clift'ed  fortress  Eng 
land  shone 
Amid  the  mirk  of  chaos ;  for  the  huge 

Empire  of  Spain  was  but  the  dusky 
van 

Of  that  dread  night  beyond  all  nights  and  days, 
Night  of  the  last  corruption  of  a  world 
Fast-bound  in  misery  and  iron,  with  chains 
Of  priest  and  king  and  feudal  servitude, 
Night  of  the  fettered  flesh  and  ravaged  soul, 
Night  of  anarchic  chaos,  darkening  the  deep, 
Swallowing  up  cities,  kingdoms,  empires,  gods, 
With  vaster  gloom  approaching,  till  the  sun 
Of  love  was  blackened,  the  moon  of  faith  was 

blood. 

All  round  our  England,  our  small  struggling  star, 
Fortress  of  freedom,  rock  o'  the  world's  desire, 
Bearing  at  last  the  hope  of  all  mankind, 
The  thickening  darkness  surged,  and  close  at  hand 

229 


DRAKE 


Those  first  fierce  cloudy  fringes  of  the  storm, 
The  Armada   sails,   gathered  their  might;   and 

Rome 
Crouched  close  behind  them  with  her  screaming 

fires 
And    steaming    shambles, — Rome,    the   hell-hag, 

crouched, 

Still  grasping  with  red  hand  the  cross  of  Christ 
By  its  great  hilt,  pointing  it  like  a  dagger, 
Spear-head    of    the    ultimate    darkness,    at    the 

throat 

Of  England.     Under  Philip's  feet  at  last 
Writhed    all    the    Protestant    Netherlands,    dim 

coasts 

Right  over  against  us,  whence  his  panoplies 
Might  suddenly  whelm  our  isle.     But  all  night 

long, 

On  many  a  mountain,  many  a  guardian  height, 
From  Beachy  Head  to  Skiddaw,  little  groups 
Of  seamen,  torch  and  battle-lanthorn  nigh, 
Watched  by  the  brooding  unlit  beacons,  piled 
Of  furze  and  gorse,  funereal  peat,  rough  logs, 
Reeking  with  oil,  'mid  sharp  scents  of  the  sea, 

230 


BOOK     IX 


Waste    trampled    grass    and   heather    and   close- 
cropped  thyme, 

High  o'er  the  thundering  coast,   among  whose 
rocks 

Far,  far  below,  the  pacing  coast-guards  gazed 

Steadfastly  seaward  through  the  loaded  dusk. 

And  through  that  deepening  gloom  when,  as  it 
seemed, 

All  England  held  her  breath  in  one  grim  doubt, 

Swift  rumours  flashed  from  North  to  South  as 
runs 

The  lightning  round  a  silent  thunder-cloud; 

And  there  were  muttering  crowds  i'  the  London 
streets, 

And  hurrying  feet  i'  the  brooding  Eastern  ports. 

All  night,  dark  inns,  gathering  the  country-side, 

Reddened  with  clashing  auguries  of  war. 

All  night,  i'  the  ships  of  Plymouth  Sound,  the 
soul 

Of  Francis  Drake  was  England,  and  all  night 

Her  singing  seamen  by  the  silver  quays 

Polished  their  guns  and  waited  for  the  dawn. 

But  hour  by  hour  that  night  grew  deeper.     Spain 

231 


DRAKE 

Watched,    cloud   by   cloud,    her  huge   Armadas 

grow; 
Watched,  tower  by  tower  and  zone  by  zone,  her 

fleets 

Grapple  the  sky  with  a  hundred  hands  and  drag 
Whole  sea-horizons  into  her  menacing  ranks, 
Joining   her   powers   to    the   fierce   night,    while 

Philip 

Still  strove,  with  many  a  crafty  word,  to  lull 
The  fears  of  Gloriana,  till  his  plots 
Were  ripe,  his  armaments  complete;  and  still 
Great  Gloriana  took  her  woman's  way, 
Preferring  ever  tortuous  intrigue 
To  battle,  since  the  stakes  had  grown  so  great; 
Now,  more  than  ever,  hoping  against  hope 
To  find  some  subtler  means  of  victory; 
Yet  not  without  swift  impulses  to  strike, 
Swiftly  recalled.     Blind,  yet  not  blind,  she  smiled 
On  Mary  of  Scotland  waiting  for  her  throne, — 
A  throne  with  many  a  strange  dark  tremour 

thrilled 

Now  as  the  rumoured  murderous  mines  below 
Converged  towards  it,  mine  and  countermine, 

232 


BOOK    IX 


Till  the  live  earth  was  honeycombed  with  death. 
Still  with  her  agate  smile,  still  she  delayed, 
Holding  her  pirate  admiral  in  the  leash, 
Till  Walsingham,  nay,  even  the  hunchback 

Burleigh, 

That  crafty  king  of  statesmen,  seeing  at  last 
The  inevitable  thunder-crash  at  hand, 
Grew  heart-sick  with  delay  and  ached  to  shatter 
The  tense  tremendous  hush  that  seemed  to  oppress 
All  hearts,  compress  all  brows,  load  the  broad 

night 
With  more  than  mortal  menace. 

Only  once 

The  night  was  traversed  with  one  lightning  flash, 
One  rapier  stroke  from  England,  at  the  heart 
Of  Spain,  as  swiftly  parried,  yet  no  less 
A  fiery  challenge ;  for  Philip's  hate  and  scorn 
Growing  with  his  Armada's  growth,  he  lured 
With  promises  of  just  and  friendly  trade 
A  fleet  of  English  corn-ships  to  relieve 
His  famine-stricken  coast.     There  as  they  lay 
Within  his  ports  he  seized  them,  one  and  all, 
To  fill  the  Armada's  maw. 

233 


DRAKE 


Whereat  the  Queen, 

Passive  so  long,  summoned  great  Walsingham, 
And,  still  averse  from  open  war,  despite 
The  battle-hunger  burning  in  his  eyes, 
With  one   strange  swift  sharp   agate  smile  she 
hissed, 


A  lightning  flash  indeed 
Was  this  ;  for  he  whose  little  Golden  Hynde 
With  scarce  a  score  of  seamen  late  had  scourged 
The  Spanish  Main;  he  whose  piratic  neck 
Scarcely  the  Queen's  most  wily  statecraft  saved 
From  Spain's  revenge;  he,  privateer  to  the  eyes 
Of  Spain,  but  England  to  all  English  hearts, 
Gathered  together,  in  all  good  jollity, 
All  help  and  furtherance  himself  could  wish, 
Before  that  moon  was  out,  a  pirate  fleet 
Whereof  the  like  old  ocean  had  not  seen  — 
Eighteen  swift  cruisers,  two  great  battleships, 
With  pinnaces  and  store-ships  and  a  force 
Of  nigh  three  thousand  men,  wherewith  to  singe 
The  beard  o'  the  King  of  Spain. 

By  night  they  gathered 
234 


PHILIP  II,  KING  OF  SPAIN 

From  the  Painting  by  Titian 


BOOK    IX 


In   marvellous    wind-whipt    inns    nigh    Plymouth 

Sound, 

Not  secretly  as,  ere  the  Golden  Hynde 
Burst  thro'  the  West,  that  small  adventurous  crew 
Gathered  beside  the  Thames,  tossing  the  phrase 
"  Pieces  of  eight "   from  mouth  to  mouth,  and 

singing 

Great  songs  of  the  rich  Indies,  and  those  tall 
Enchanted  galleons,  red  with  blood  and  gold, 
Superb  with  rubies,  glorious  as  clouds, 
Clouds  P  the  sun,  with  mighty  press  of  sail 
Dragging  the  sunset  out  of  the  unknown  world, 
And  staining  all  the  grey  old  seas  of  Time 
With  rich  romance;  but  these,  though  privateers, 
Or  secret  knights  on  Gloriana's  quest, 
Recked  not  if  round  the  glowing  magic  door 
Of  every  inn  the  townsfolk  grouped  to  hear 
The  storm-scarred  seamen  toasting  Francis  Drake, 
Nor  heeded  what  blithe  urchin  faces  pressed 
On  each  red-curtained  magic  casement,  bright 
With  wild  reflection  of  the  fires  within, 
The  fires,  the  glasses  and  the  singing  lips 
Lifting  defiance  to  the  powers  of  Spain. 

235 


DRAKE 


SONG 

Sing  we  the  Rose, 

The  flower  of  flowers  most  glorious! 
Never  a  storm  that  blows 

Across  our  English  sea 
But  its  heart  breaks  out  wi'  the  Rose 

On  England's  flag  victorious, 
The  triumphing  flag  that  flows 

Thro'  the  heavens  of  Liberty. 

Sing  we  the  Rose, 

The  flower  of  flowers  most  beautiful ! 
Until  the  world  shall  end 

She  blossometh  year  by  year, 
Red  with  the  blood  that  flows 

For  England's  sake,  most  dutiful, 
Wherefore  now  we  bend 

Our  hearts  and  knees  to  her. 

Sing  we  the  Rose, 

The  flower,  the  flower  of  war  it  is, 
Where  deep  P  the  midnight  gloom 
236 


BOOK    IX 


Its  waves  are  the  waves  of  the  sea, 
And  the  glare  of  battle  grows, 

And  red  over  hulk  and  spar  it  is, 
Till  the  grim  black  broadsides  bloom 

With  our  Rose  of  Victory. 

Sing  we  the  Rose, 

The  flower,  the  flower  of  love  it  is, 
Which  lovers  aye  shall  sing 

And  nightingales  proclaim; 
For  oh,  the  heaven  that  glows, 

That  glows  and  burns  above  it  is 
Freedom's  perpetual  Spring, 

Our  England's  faithful  fame. 

Sing  we  the  Rose, 

That  Eastward  still  shall  spread  for  us 
Upon  the  dawn's  bright  breast, 

Red  leaves  wi'  the  foam  impearled; 
And  onward  ever  flows 

Till  eventide  make  red  for  us 
A  Rose  that  sinks  i'  the  West 

And  surges  round  the  world; 
Sing  we  the  Rose! 
237 


DRAKE 


One  night  as,  with  his  great  vice-admiral, 
Frobisher,  his  rear-admiral,  Francis  Knollys, 
And  Thomas  Fenner,  his  flag-captain,  Drake 
Took  counsel  at  his  tavern,  there  came  a  knock, 
The  door  opened,  and  cold  as  from  the  sea 
The  gloom  rushed  in,  and  there  against  the  night, 
Clad  as  it  seemed  with  wind  and  cloud  and  rain, 
Glittered  a  courtier,  whom  by  face  and  form 
All  knew  for  the  age's  brilliant  paladin, 
Sidney,  the  king  of  courtesy,  a  star 
Of  chivalry.     The  seamen  stared  at  him, 
Each  with  a  hand  upon  the  red-lined  chart 
Outspread    before    them.      Then    all    stared    at 

Drake, 
Who  crouched  like  a  great  bloodhound  o'er  the 

table, 

And  rose  with  a  strange  light  burning  in  his  eyes ; 
For  he  remembered  how,  three  years  agone, 
That  other  courtier  came,  with  words  and  smiles 
Copied  from  Sidney's  self;  and  in  his  ears 
Rang  once  again  the  sound  of  the  headsman's  ax 
Upon  the  desolate  Patagonian  shore 
Beneath  Magellan's  gallows.     With  a  voice 

238 


BOOK    IX 


So  harsh  himself  scarce  knew  it,  he  desired 
This  fair  new  courtier's  errand.     With  grim  eyes 
He  scanned  the  silken  knight  from  head  to  foot, 
While  Sidney,  smiling  graciously,  besought 
Some  place  in  their  adventure.     Drake's  clenched 

fist 

Crashed  down  on  the  old  oak  table  like  a  rock, 
Splintering  the  wood  and  dashing  his  rough  wrist 
With  blood,  as  he  thundered,  "  By  the  living  God, 
No!     We've  no  room  for  courtiers,  now!     We 

leave 
All  that  to  Spain." 

Whereat,  seeing  Sidney  stood 
Amazed,  Drake,  drawing  nearer,  said,  "  You  ask 
More  than  you  dream :  I  know  you  for  a  knight 
Most  perfect  and  most  gentle — yea,  a  man 
Ready  to  die  on  any  battle-field 
To  save  a  wounded  friend  "  (even  so  said  Drake, 
Not  knowing  how  indeed  this  knight  would  die, — • 
Yea,  yield  the  cup  of  water  from  his  lips 
To  save  a  wounded  soldier,  saying,  "  His  need 
Is  greater!  ") 

Drake  outstretched  his  bleeding  hand 
239 


DRAKE 


And  pointed  through  the  door  to  where  the  gloom 
Glimmered  with  bursting   spray,   and  the   thick 

night 

Was  all  one  wandering  thunder  of  hidden  seas 
Rolling  out  of  Eternity:  "  You'll  find 
No  purple  fields  of  Arcady  out  there, 
No  shepherds  piping  in  those  boisterous  valleys, 
No  sheep  among  those  roaring  mountain-tops, 
No  lists  of  feudal  chivalry.     I've  heard 
That  voice  cry  death  to  courtiers.     'Tis  God's 

voice. 

Take  you  the  word  of  one  who  has  occupied 
His  business  in  great  waters.     There's  no  room, 
Meaning,  or  reason,  office,  or  place,  or  name 
For  courtiers  on  the  sea.     Does  the  sea  flatter? 
You  cannot  bribe  it,  torture  it,  or  tame  it ! 
Its  laws  are  those  of  the  Juggernaut  universe, 
Remorseless — listen  to  that !  " — a  mighty  wave 
Broke  thundering  down  the  coast;  "  your  hands  are 

white, 

Your  rapier  jewelled,  can  you  grapple  that? 
What  part  have  you  in  all  its  flaming  ways? 
What  share  in  its  fierce  gloom?  Has  your  heart 

broken 

240 


BOOK    IX 


As  those  waves  break  out  there?     Can  you  lie 

down 

And  sleep,  as  a  lion-cub  by  the  old  lion, 
When  it  shakes  its  mane  out  over  you  to  hide  you, 
And  leap  out  with  the  dawn  as  I  have  done? 
These  are  big  words;  but,  see,  my  hand  is  red: 
You  cannot  torture  me,  I  have  borne  all  that; 
And  so  I  have  some  kinship  with  the  sea, 
Some  sort  of  wild  alliance  with  its  storms. 
Its  exultations,  ay,  and  its  great  wrath 
At  last,  and  power  upon  them.     'Tis  the  worse 
For  Spain.     Be  counselled  well :  come  not  between 
My  sea  and  its  rich  vengeance." 

Silently, 

Bowing  his  head,  Sidney  withdrew.     But  Drake, 
So  fiercely  the  old  grief  rankled  in  his  heart, 
Summoned  his   swiftest  horseman,   bidding  him 

ride, 
Ride  like  the  wind  through  the  night,  straight  to 

the  Queen, 

Praying  she  would  most  instantly  recall 
Her  truant  courtier.     Nay,  to  make  all  sure, 
Drake  sent  a  gang  of  seamen  out  to  crouch 
Ambushed  in  woody  hollows  nigh  the  road, 

241 


DRAKE 

Under  the  sailing  moon,  there  to  waylay 
The  Queen's  reply,  that  she  might  never  know 
It  reached  him,  if  it  proved  against  his  will. 

And  swiftly  came  that  truant's  stern  recall; 
But  Drake,  in  hourly  dread  of  some  new  change 
In  Gloriana's  mood,  slept  not  by  night 
Or  day,  till  out  of  roaring  Plymouth  Sound 
The  pirate  fleet  swept  to  the  wind-swept  main, 
And  took  the  wind  and  shook  out  all  its  sails. 
Then  with  the  unfettered  sea  he  mixed  his  soul 
In  great  rejoicing  union,  while  the  ships 
Crashing  and  soaring  o'er  the  heart-free  waves 
Drave  ever  straight  for  Spain. 

Water  and  food 

They  lacked;  but  the  fierce  fever  of  his  mind 
To   sail    from    Plymouth   ere   the   Queen's   will 

changed 

Had  left  no  time  for  these.     Right  on  he  drave, 
Determining,  though  the  Queen's  old  officers 
Beneath  him  stood  appalled,  to  take  in  stores 
Of  all  he  needed, — water,  powder,  food, — 
By  plunder  of  Spain  herself.     In  Vigo  Bay, 

243 


BOOK    IX 


Close  to  Bayona  town,  under  the  cliffs 
Of  Spain's  world-wide  and  thunder-fraugut 

prestige 

He  anchored,  with  the  old  sea-touch  that  wakes 
Our  England  still.     There,  in  the  tingling  ears 
Of  the  world  he  cried,  En  garde!  to  the  King  of 

Spain. 

There,  ordering  out  his  pinnaces  in  force, 
While  a  great  storm,  as  if  he  held  indeed 
Heaven's  batteries  in  reserve,  growled  o'er  the  sea, 
He  landed.     Ere  one  cumbrous  limb  of  all 
The  monstrous  armaments  of  Spain  could  move 
His  ships  were  stored;  and  ere  the  sword  of  Spain 
Stirred  in  its  crusted  sheath,  Bayona  town 
Beheld  an  empty  sea;  for  like  a  dream 
The  pirate  fleet  had  vanished,  none  knew  whither. 
But,  in  its  visible  stead,  invisible  fear 
Filled  the  vast  rondure  of  the  sea  and  sky 
As  with  the  omnipresent  soul  of  Drake. 
For  when  Spain  saw  the  small  black  anchored  fleet 
Ride  in  her  bays,  the  sight  set  bounds  to  fear. 
She  knew  at  least  the  ships  were  oak,  the  guns 
Of  common  range :  nor  did  she  dream  e'en  Drake 

243 


DRAKE 


Could  sail  two  seas  at  once.     Now  all  her  coasts 
Heard  him  all  night  in  every  bursting  wave, 
His  topsails  gleamed  in  every  moonlit  cloud; 
His  battle-lanthorns  glittered  in  the  stars 
That  hung  the  low  horizon.     He  became 
A  universal  menace;  yet  there  followed 
No  sight  or  sound  of  him,  unless  the  sea 
Were  that  grim  soul  incarnate.     Did  it  not  roar 
His  great  commands  ?     The  very  spray  that  lashed 
The  cheeks  of  Spanish  seamen  lashed  their 

hearts 

To  helpless  hatred  of  him.     The  wind  sang 
El  Draque  across  the  rattling  blocks  and  sheets 
When  storms  perplexed  them;  and  when  ships 

went  down, 

As  under  the  fury  of  his  onsetting  battle, 
The  drowning  sailors  cursed  him  while  they  sank. 

Suddenly  a  rumour  shook  the  Spanish  Court : 
He  has  gone  once  more  to  the  Indies.    Santa  Cruz, 
High  Admiral  of  Spain,  the  most  renowned 
Captain  in  Europe,  clamoured  for  a  fleet 
Of  forty  sail  instantly  to  pursue. 

244 


O^   THE 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 


BOOK     IX 


For  unto  him  whose  little  Golden  Hynde 
Was  weapon  enough,  now  leading  such  a  squadron, 
The  West  Indies,  the  whole  Pacific  coast, 
And  the  whole  Spanish  Main,  lay  at  his  mercy. 
And  onward  over  the  great  grey  gleaming  sea 
Swept  like  a  thunder-cloud  the  pirate  fleet 
With  vengeance  in  its  heart.     Five  years  agone, 
Young  Hawkins,  in  the  Cape  Verde  Islands,  met — 
At  Santiago — with  such  treachery 
As  Drake  burned  to  requite,  and  from  that  hour 
Was  Santiago  doomed.     His  chance  had  come; 
Drake  swooped  upon  it,  plundered  it,  and  was 

gone, 

Leaving  the  treacherous  isle  a  desolate  heap 
Of  smoking  ashes  in  the  leaden  sea, 
While  onward  all  those  pirate  bowsprits  plunged 
Into  the  golden  West,  across  the  broad 
Atlantic  once  again;  "  For  I  will  show," 
Said   Drake,   "  that  Englishmen  henceforth  will 

sail 

Old  ocean  where  they  will."    Onward  they  surged, 
And  the  great  glittering  crested  majestic  waves 
Jubilantly  rushed  up  to  meet  the  keels, 

245 


DRAKE 

And  there  was  nought  around  them  but  the  grey 
Ruin  and  roar  of  the  huge  Atlantic  seas, 
Grey  mounded  seas,  pursuing  and  pursued, 
That  fly,  hounded  and  hounding  on  for  ever, 
From  empty  marge  to  marge  of  the  grey  sky. 
Over  the  wandering  wilderness  of  foam, 
Onward,  through  storm  and  death,  Drake  swept; 

for  now 

Once  more  a  fell  plague  gripped  the  tossing  ships, 
And  not  by  twos  and  threes  as  heretofore 
His  crews  were  minished;  but  in  three  black  days 
Three  hundred  seamen  in  their  shotted  shrouds 
Were  cast  into  the  deep.     Onward  he  swept, 
Implacably,  having  in  mind  to  strike 
Spain  in  the  throat  at  St.  Domingo,  port 
Of  Hispaniola,  a  city  of  far  renown, 
A  jewel  on  the  shores  of  old  romance, 
Palm-shadowed,  gated  with  immortal  gold, 
Queen  city  of  Spain's  dominions  over  sea, 
And  guarded  by  great  guns.     Out  of  the  dawn 
The  pirate  ships  came  leaping,  grim  and  black, 
And  ere  the  Spaniards  were  awake,  the  flag 
Of  England  floated  from  their  topmost  tower. 

246 


BOOK    IX 


But  since  he  had  not  troops  enough  to  hold 
So  great  a  city,  Drake  entrenched  his  men 
Within  the  Plaza  and  held  the  batteries. 
Thence  he  demanded  ransom,  and  sent  out 
A  boy  with  flag  of  truce.     The  boy's  return 
Drake  waited  long.     Under  a  sheltering  palm 
He  stood,  watching  the  enemies'  camp;  and,  lo! 
Along  the  hot  white  purple-shadowed  road 
Tow'rds  him,  a  crawling  shape  writhed  through 

the  dust 

Up  to  his  feet,  a  shape  besmeared  with  blood — 
A  shape  that  held  the  stumps  up  of  its  wrists 
And  moaned,  an  eyeless  thing:  a  naked  rag 
Of  flesh  obscenely  mangled,  a  small  face 
Hideously  puckered,  shrivelled  like  a  monkey's, 
With  lips  drawn  backward  from  its  teeth. 

"  Speak,  speak, 
In  God's  name,  speak,  what  art  thou?  "  whispered 

Drake, 

And  a  sharp  cry  came,  answering  his  dread — 
A  cry  as  of  a  sea-bird  in  the  wind 
Desolately  astray  from  all  earth's  shores: 
"  Captain,  I  am  thy  boy,  only  thy  boy! 

247 


DRAKE 


See,  see,  my  captain:  see  what  they  have  done! 
Captain,  I  only  bore  the  flag;  I  only " 

"O  lad,  lad,  lad!  "  moaned  Drake,  and  stooping 

strove 

To  pillow  the  mangled  head  upon  his  arm. 
"What  have  they  done  to  thee;  what  have  they 

done?" 
And  at  the  touch,  the  boy  screamed  once  and  died. 

Then  like  a  savage  sea  with  arms  uplift 

To  heaven  the  wrath  of  Drake  blazed  thundering, 

"  Eternal  God,  be  this  the  doom  of  Spain! 

Henceforward  have  no  pity.     Send  the  strength 

Of  Thy  great  seas  into  my  soul,  that  I 

May  devastate  this  empire — this  red  hell 

They  make  of  Thy  good  earth." 

His  men  drew  round, 
Staring  in  horror  at  the  silent  shape 
That  daubed  his  feet.     Like  a  cold  wind 
His  words  went  through  their  flesh : 

"  This  is  the  lad 

That  bore  our  flag  of  truce.     This  hath  Spain 
(done. 

248 


BOOK    IX 


Look  well  upon  it;  draw  the  smoke  of  the  blood 
Up  into  your  nostrils,  my  companions, 
And  down  into  your  souls.     This  makes  an  end 
For  Spain!     Bring  forth  the  Spanish  prisoners 
And  let  me  look  on  them." 

Forth  they  were  brought, 
A  swarthy  gorgeous  band  of  soldiers,  priests, 
And  sailors,  hedged  between  two  sturdy  files 
Of  British  tars  with  naked  cutlasses. 
Close  up  to  Drake  they  halted,  under  the  palm, 
Gay   smiling   prisoners,    for   they   thought    their 

friends 
Had  ransomed  them.     Then  they  looked  up  and 

met 

A  glance  that  swept  athwart  them  like  a  sword, 
Making  the  blood  strain  back  from  their  blanched 

faces 

Into  their  quivering  hearts,  with  unknown  dread, 
As  that  accuser  pointed  to  the  shape 
Before  his  feet. 

"Dogs,  will  ye  lap  his  blood 
Before  ye  die?  Make  haste;  for  it  grows  cold! 
Ye  will  not,  will  not  even  dabble  your  hands 

249 


DRAKE 


In    that    red    puddle    of    flesh,    what?     Are    ye 

Spaniards? 
Come,  come,  I'll  look  at  you;  perchance  there's 

one 

That's  but  a  demi-devil  and  holds  you  back." 
And  with  the  word  Drake  stepped  among  their 

ranks 

And  read  each  face  among  the  swarthy  crew — 
The  gorgeous  soldiers,  ringleted  sailors,  priests 
With  rosary  and  cross,  a  slender  page 
In  scarlet  with  a  cloud  of  golden  hair, 
And  two  rope-girdled  friars. 

The  slim  page 
Drake  drew  before  the  throng.    "  You  are  young," 

he  said, 

"Go;  take  this  message  to  the  camp  of  Spain: 
Tell  them  I  have  a  hunger  in  my  soul 
To  look  upon  the  murderers  of  this  boy, 
To  see  what  eyes  they  have,   what  manner  of 

mouths ; 

To  touch  them  and  to  take  their  hands  in  mine, 
And  draw  them  close  to  me  and  smile  upon  them 
Until  they  know  my  soul  as  I  know  theirs, 
And  they  grovel  in  the  dust  and  grope  for  mercy. 

250 


BOOK     IX 


Say  that,  until  I  get  them,  every  day 
I'll  hang  two  Spaniards,  though  I  dispeople 
The  Spanish  Main.     Tell  them  that,  every  day, 
I'll  burn  a  portion  of  their  city  down, 
Then  find  another  city  and  burn  that, 
And  then  burn  others  till  I  burn  away 
Their  empire  from  the  world — ay,  till  I  reach 
The  imperial  throne  of  Philip  with  my  fires, 
And  send  it  shrieking  down  to  burn  in  hell 
For  ever.     Go! " 

Then  Drake  turned  once  again 
To  face  the  Spanish  prisoners.     With  a  voice 
Cold  as  the  passionless  utterance  of  Fate 
His  grim  command  went  forth.     "  Now,  provost- 
marshal, 

Begin  with  yon  two  friars,  in  whose  faces 
Chined  like  singed  swine,  and  eyed  with  the  spent 

coals 

Of  filthy  living,  sweats  the  glory  of  Rome 
And  Spain  combined,  strip  off  their  leprous  rags 
And  twist  their  ropes  around  their  throats  and 

hang  them 

High  over  the  Spanish  camp  for  all  to  see. 
At  dawn  I'll  choose  two  more." 

251 


BOOK    X 

A'^OSS  the  Atlantic 
Great  rumours  rushed  as  of  a  mighty 
wind, 

The  wind  of  the  spirit  of  Drake.     But 
who  shall  tell 

In  this  cold  age  the  power  that  he  became 
Who  drew  the  universe  within  his  soul 
And  moved  with  cosmic  forces?    Though  the  deep 
Divided  it  from  Drake,  the  gorgeous  court 
Of  Philip  shuddered  away  from  the  streaming 

coasts 
As  a  wind-cuffed  field  of   golden  wheat.     The 

King, 

Bidding  his  guests  to  a  feast  in  his  own  ship 
On  that  wind-darkened  sea,  was  made  a  mock, 
As  one  by  one  his  ladies  proffered  excuse 
For  fear  of  That  beyond.     Round  Europe  now 
Ballad  and  story  told  how  in  the  cabin 
Of  Francis  Drake  there  hung  a  magic  glass 

252 


BOOK    X 


Wherein  he  saw  the  fleets  of  all  his  enemies 
And  all  that  passed  aboard  them.     Rome  herself, 
Perplexed  that  this  proud  heretic  should  prevail, 
Fostered  a  darker  dream  that  Drake  had  bought, 
Like  old  Norse  wizards,  power  to  loose  or  bind 
The  winds  at  will. 

And  now  a  wilder  tale 

Flashed  o'er  the  deep — of  a  distant  blood-red  dawn 
O'er  San  Domingo,  where  the  embattled  troops 
Of  Spain  and  Drake  were  met — but  not  in  war — 
Met  in  the  dawn,  by  his  compelling  will, 
To  offer  up  a  sacrifice.     Yea,  there 
Between  the  hosts,  the  hands  of  Spain  herself 
Slaughtered  the  Spanish  murderers  of  the  boy 
Who  had  borne  Drake's  flag  of  truce;  offered 

them  up 

As  a  blood-offering  and  an  expiation, 
Lest  Drake,  with  that  dread  alchemy  of  his  soul, 
Should  e'en  transmute  the  dust  beneath  their  feet 
To  one  same  substance  with  the  place  of  pain 
And  whelm  them  suddenly  in  the  eternal  fires 
Rumour  on  rumour  rushed  across  the  sea, 
Large  mockeries,  and  one  most  bitter  of  all, 

253 


DRAKE 


Wormwood  to  Philip,  of  how  Drake  had  stood 
I'  the  governor's  house  at  San  Domingo,  and  seen 
A  mighty  scutcheon  of  the  King  of  Spain 
Whereon  was  painted  the  terrestrial  globe, 
And  on  the  globe  a  mighty  steed  in  act 
To  spring  into  the  heavens,  and  from  its  mouth 
Streaming  like  smoke  a  scroll,  and  on  the  scroll 
Three  words  of  flame  and  fury — Non  suffidt 
Orbis — of  how  Drake  and  his  seamen  stood 
Gazing  upon  it,  and  could  not  forbear 
From  summoning  the  Spaniards  to  expound 
Its  meaning,  whereupon  a  hurricane  roar 
Of  mirth  burst  from  those  bearded  British  lips, 
And  that  immortal  laughter  shook  the  world. 

So,  while  the  imperial  warrior  eyes  of  Spain 
Watched,  every  hour,  her  vast  Armada  grow 
Readier  to  launch  and  shatter  with  one  stroke 
Our  island's  frail  defence,  fear  gripped  her  still, 
For  there  came  sounds  across  the  heaving  sea 
Of  secret  springs  unsealed,  forces  unchained, 
A  mustering  of  deep  elemental  powers, 
A  sound  as  of  the  burgeoning  of  boughs 

254 


BOOK    X 


In  universal  April  and  dead  hearts 

Uprising  from  their  tombs ;  a  mighty  cry 

Of  resurrection,  surging  through  the  souls 

Of  all  mankind.     For  now  the  last  wild  tale 

Swept  like  another  dawn  across  the  deep; 

And,  in  that  dawn,  men  saw  the  slaves  of  Spain, 

The  mutilated  negroes  of  the  mines, 

With  gaunt  backs  wealed  and  branded,  scarred 

and  seared 

By  whip  and  iron,  in  Spain's  brute  lust  for  gold, 
Saw  them,  at  Drake's  great  liberating  word 
Burst  from  their  chains,  erect,  uplifting  hands 
Of  rapture  to  the  glad  new  light  that  then, 
Then  first,  began  to  struggle  thro'  the  clouds 
And  crown  all  manhood  with  a  sacred  crown 
August — a  light  which,  though  from  age  to  age 
Clouds  may  obscure  it,  grows  and  still  shall  grow, 
Until    that    Kingdom    come,    that    grand    Com 
munion, 

That  Commonweal,  that  Empire,  which  still  draws 
Nigher  with  every  hour,  that  Federation, 
That  turning  of  the  wasteful  strength  of  war 
To  accomplish  large  and  fruitful  tasks  of  peace, 

255 


DRAKE 


That  gathering  up  of  one  another's  loads, 
Whereby  the  weak  are  strengthened  and  the  strong 
Made  stronger  in  the  increasing  good  of  all. 
Then,  suddenly,  it  seemed,  as  he  had  gone, 
A  ship  came  stealing  into  Plymouth  Sound 
And  Drake  was  home  again,  but  not  to  rest; 
For  scarce  had  he  cast  anchor  ere  the  road 
To  London  rang  beneath  the  flying  hoofs 
That  bore  his  brief  despatch  to  Burleigh,  saying — 
"  We  have  missed  the  Plate  Fleet  by  but  twelve 

hours'  sail, 

The  reason  being  best  known  to  God.     No  less 
We  have  given  a  cooling  to  the  King  of  Spain. 
There  is  a  great  gap  opened  which,  methinks. 
Is  little  to  his  liking.     We  have  sacked 
The  towns  of  his  chief  Indies,  burnt  their  ships, 
Captured  great  store  of  gold  and  precious  stones, 
Three  hundred  pieces  of  artillery, 
The  more  part  brass.     Our  loss  is  heavy  indeed, 
Under  the  hand  of  God,  eight  hundred  men, 
Three  parts  of  them  by  sickness.    Captain  Moone, 
My  trusty  old  companion,  he  that  struck 
The  first  blow  in  the  South  Seas  at  a  Spaniard, 

256 


BOOK    X 


Died  of  a  grievous  wound  at  Cartagena. 

My  fleet  and  I  are  ready  to  strike  again 

At  once,  where'er  the  Queen  and  England  please. 

I  pray  for  her  commands,  and  those  with  speed, 

That  I  may  strike  again."     Outside  the  scroll 

These  words  were  writ  once  more — "  My  Queen's 

commands 
I  much  desire,  your  servant,  Francis  Drake." 

This  terse  despatch  the  hunchback  Burleigh  read 
Thrice  over,  with  the  broad  cliff  of  his  brow 
Bending  among  his  books.     Thrice  he  assayed 
To  steel  himself  with  caution  as  of  old; 
And  thrice,  as  a  glorious  lightning  running  along 
And  flashing  between  those  simple  words,  he  saw 
The  great  new  power  that  lay  at  England's  hand, 
An  ocean  sovereignty — a  power  unknown 
Before,  but  dawning  now;  a  power  that  swept 
All  earth's  old  plots  and  counterplots  away 
Like  straws;  the  germ  of  an  unmeasured  force 
New-born,  that  laid  the  source  of  Spanish  might 
At  England's  mercy !     Could  that  force  but  grow 
Ere  Spain  should  nip  it,  ere  the  mighty  host 

257 


DRAKE 


That  waited  in  the  Netherlands  even  now, 
That  host  of  thirty  thousand  men  encamped 
Round  Antwerp,  under  Parma,  should  embark 
Convoyed  by  that  Invincible  Armada 
To  leap  at  England's  throat!     Thrice  he  assayed 
To  think  of  England's  helplessness,  her  ships 
Little  and  few.     Thrice  he  assayed  to  quench 
With  caution  the  high  furnace  of  his  soul 
Which  Drake  had  kindled.     As  he  read  the  last 
Rough  simple  plea,  /  wait  my  Queen's  commands, 
His  deep  eyes  flashed  with  glorious  tears. 

He  leapt 

To  his  feet  and  cried  aloud,  "  Before  my  God, 
I  am  proud,  I  am  very  proud  for  England's  sake ! 
This  Drake  is  a  terrible  man  to  the  King  of  Spain." 

And  still,  still,  Gloriana,  brooding  darkly 
On  Mary  of  Scotland's  doom,  who  now  at  last 
Was  plucked  from  out  her  bosom  like  a  snake 
Hissing  of  war  with  France,  a  queenly  snake, 
A  Lilith  in  whose  lovely  gleaming  folds 
And  sexual  bonds  the  judgment  of  mankind 
Writhes  even  yet  half-strangled,  meting  out 

258 


BOOK    X 


Wild  execrations  on  the  maiden  Queen 

Who  quenched  those  jewelled  eyes  and  mixt  with 

dust 

That  white  and  crimson,  who  with  cold  sharp  steel 
In  substance  and  in  spirit,  severed  the  neck 
And  straightened  out  those  glittering  supple  coils 
For  ever;  though  for  evermore  will  men 
Lie  subject  to  the  unforgotten  gleam 
Of  diamond  eyes  and  cruel  crimson  mouth, 
And  curse  the  sword-bright  intellect  that  struck 
Like  lightning  far  through  Europe  and  the  world 
For  England,  when  amid  the  embattled  fury 
Of  world-wide  empires,  England  stood  alone. 
Still  she  held  back  from  war,  still  disavowed 
The  deeds  of  Drake  to  Spain;  and  yet  once  more 
Philip,  resolved  at  last  never  to  swerve 
By  one  digressive  stroke,  one  ell  or  inch 
From  his  own  patient,  sure,  laborious  path, 
Accepted  her  suave  plea,  and  with  all  speed 
Pressed  on  his  huge  emprise  until  it  seemed 
His  coasts  groaned  with  grim  bulks  of  cannonry, 
Thick  loaded  hulks  of   thunder   and   towers   of 

doom; 

259 


DRAKE 

And,  all  round  Antwerp,  Parma  still  prepared 
To  hurl  such  armies  o'er  the  rolling  sea 
As  in  all  history  hardly  the  earth  herself 
Felt  shake  with  terror  her  own  green  hills  and 

plains. 

/  wait  my  Queen's  commands!     Despite  the  plea 
Urged  every  hour  upon  her  with  the  fire 
That  burned  for  action  in  the  soul  of  Drake. 
Still  she  delayed,  till  on  one  darkling  eve 
She  gave  him  audience  in  that  glimmering  room 
Where  first  he  saw  her.     Strangely  sounded  there 
The  seaman's  rough  strong  passion  as  he  poured 
His  heart  before  her,  pleading — u  Every  hour 
Is  one  more  victory  lost,"  and  only  heard 
The  bitter  answer — "  Nay,  but  every  hour 
Is  a  breath  snatched  from  the  unconquerable 
Doom,  that  awaits  us  if  we  are  forced  to  war. 
Yea,  and  who  knows? — though  Spain  may  forge 

a  sword, 

Its  point  is  not  inevitably  bared 
Against  the  breast  of  England  1  "     As  she  spake, 
The  winds  without  clamoured  with  clash  of  bells, 
There  was  a  gleam  of  torches  and  a  roar — 

260 


BOOK    X 


Mary,  the  traitress  of  the  North,  is  dead, 
God  save  the  Queen! 

Her  head  bent  down :  she  wept. 
"  Pity  me,  friend,  though  I  be  queen,  O  yet 
My  heart  is  woman,  and  I  am  sore  pressed 
On  every  side, — Scotland  and  France  and  Spain 
Beset  me,  and  I  know  not  where  to  turn." 
Even  as  she  spake,  there  came  a  hurried  step 
Into  that  dim,  rich  chamber.     Walsingham 
Stood  there,  before  her,  without  ceremony 
Thrusting  a  letter  forth :  "  At  last,"  he  cried, 
"  Your  Majesty  may  read  the  full  intent 
Of  Spain  and  Rome.     Here,  plainly  written  out 
Upon  this  paper,  worth  your  kingdom's  crown, 
This  letter,  stolen  by  a  trusty  spy, 
Out  of  the  inmost  chamber  of  the  Pope 
Sixtus  himself,  here  is  your  murder  planned: 
Blame  not  your  Ministers,  who  with  such  haste 
Plucked  out  this  viper,  Mary,  from  your  breast! 
Read  here — how,  with  his  thirty  thousand  men, 
The  pick  of  Europe,  Parma  joins  the  Scots, 
While  Ireland,  grasped  in  their  Armada's  clutch, 
And  the  Isle  of  Wight,  against  our  west  and  south 

261 


DRAKE 


Become  their  base." 

!t  Rome,  Rome,  and  Rome  again, 
And  always  Rome,"  she  muttered;  "even  here 
In  England  hath  she  thousands  yet.     She  hath 

struck 

Her  curse  out  with  pontific  finger  at  me, 
Cursed  me  down  and  away  to  the  bottomless  pit. 
Her  shadow  like  the  shadow  of  clouds  or  sails, 
The  shadow  of  that  huge  event  at  hand, 
Darkens  the  seas  already,  and  the  wind 
Is  on  my  cheek  that  shakes  my  kingdom  down. 
She  hath  thousands  here  in  England,  born  and  bred 
Englishmen.     They  will  stand  by  Rome !  " 

"  'Fore  God," 
Cried  Walsingham,   "  my  Queen,  you  do  them 

wrong ! 

There  is  another  Rome — not  this  that  lurks 
And  lies  and  plucks  the  world  back  into  darkness, 
And  stabs  it  there  for  gold.     There  is  a  City 
Whose  eyes  are  tow'rd  the  morning;  on  whose 

heights 

Blazes  the  Cross  of  Christ  above  the  world; 
A  Rome  that  shall  wage  warfare  yet  for  God 

262 


BOOK    X 


In  the  dark  days  to  come — a  Rome  whose  thought 
Shall  march  with  our  humanity  and  be  proud 
To  cast  old  creeds  like  seed  into  the  ground, 
Watch  the  strange  shoots  and  foster  the  new  flower 
Of  faiths  we  know  not  yet.     Is  this  a  dream? 
I  speak  as  one  by  knighthood  bound  to  speak; 
For  even  this  day — and  my  heart  burns  with  it — 
I  heard  the  Catholic  gentlemen  of  England 
Speaking  in  grave  assembly.     At  one  breath 
Of  peril  to  our  island,  why,  their  swords 
Leapt  from  their  scabbards,  and  their  cry  went  up 
To    split    the    heavens — God   save    our   English 

Queen!" 

Even  as  he  spake  there  passed  the  rushing  gleam 
Of  torches  once  again,  and  as  they  stood 
Silently  listening,  all  the  winds  ran  wild 
With  clamouring  bells,  and  a  great  cry  went  up — 
God  save  Elizabeth,  our  English  Queen! 

"  I'll  vouch  for  some  two  hundred  Catholic  throats 
Among  that  thousand,"  whispered  Walsingham 
Eagerly,  with  his  eyes  on  the  Queen's  face. 
Then,  seeing  it  brighten,  fervently  he  cried, 

263 


DRAKE 


Pressing  the  swift  advantage  home,  "  O  Madam, 
The  heart  of  England  now  is  all  on  fire! 
We  are  one  people,  as  we  never  have  been 
In  all  our  history,  all  prepared  to  die 
Around  your  throne.     Madam,  you  are  beloved 
As  never  yet  was  English  king  or  queen !  " 
She  looked  at  him,  the  tears  in  her  keen  eyes 
Glittered — "  And  I  am  very  proud,"  she  said, 
"  But  if  our  enemies  command  the  world, 
And  we  have  one  small  island  and  no  more  .  .  ." 
She  ceased;  and  Drake,  in  a  strange  voice,  hoarse 

and  low, 

Trembling  with  passion  deeper  than  all  speech, 
Cried  out — "  No  more  than  the  great  ocean  sea 
Which  makes  the  enemies'  coast  our  frontier  now; 
No  more  than  that  great  Empire  of  the  deep 
Which  rolls  from  Pole  to  Pole,  washing  the  world 
With  thunder,  that  great  Empire  whose  command 
This  day  is  yours  to  take.     Hear  me,  my  Queen, 
This  is  a  dream,  a  new  dream,  but  a  true; 
For  mightier  days  are  dawning  on  the  world 
Than  heart  of  man  hath  known.     If  England  hold 
The  sea,  she  holds  the  hundred  thousand  gates 

264 


BOOK    X 


That  open  to  futurity.     She  holds 
The  highway  of  all  ages.     Argosies 
Of  unknown  glory  set  their  sails  this  day 
For  England  out  of  ports  beyond  the  stars. 
Ay,  on  the  sacred  seas  we  ne'er  shall  know 
They  hoist  their  sails  this  day  by  peaceful  quays, 
Great  gleaming  wharves  i'  the  perfect  City  of 

God, 
If  she  but  claim  her  heritage." 

He  ceased; 

And  the  deep  dream  of  that  new  realm,  the  sea, 
Through  all  the  soul  of  Gloriana  surged 
A  moment;  then,  with  splendid  eyes  that  filled 
With  fire  of  sunsets  far  away,  she  cried 
(Faith  making  her  a  child,  yet  queenlier  still), 
"  Yea,  claim  it  thou  for  me!  " 

A  moment  there 
Trembling  she  stood.     Then,   once  again,   there 

passed 

A  rush  of  torches  through  the  gloom  without, 
And  a  great  cry  "Go d  save  Elizabeth, 
God  save  our  English  Queen!  " 

"  Yea  go,  then,  go," 
265 


DRAKE 


She  said,  "  God  speed  you  now,  Sir  Francis  Drake, 
Not  as  a  privateer,  but  with  full  powers, 
My  Admiral-at-the-Seas !  " 

Without  a  word 

Drake  bent  above  her  hand  and,  ere  she  knew  it, 
His  eyes  from  the  dark  doorway  flashed  farewell, 
And  he  was  gone.    But  ere  he  leapt  to  saddle 
Walsingham  stood  at  his  stirrup,  muttering  "  Ride, 
Ride  now  like  hell  to  Plymouth ;  for  the  Queen 
Is  hard  beset,  and  ere  ye  are  out  at  sea 
Her  mood  will  change.  The  friends  of  Spain  will 

move 
Earth  and  the  heavens  for  your  recall.     They'll 

tempt  her 
With  their  false  baits  of  peace,  though  I  shall 

stand 
Here  at  your  back  through  thick  and  thin, — 

farewell  I" 
Fire  flashed  beneath  the  hoofs,  and  Drake  was 

gone. 

Scarce  had  he  vanished  in  the  night  than  doubt 
Once  more  assailed  the  Queen.     The  death  of 
Mary 

266 


BOOK    X 


Had  brought  e'en  France  against  her.     Walsing- 

ham, 

And  Burleigh  himself,  prime  mover  of  that  death, 
Being  held  in  much  disfavour  for  it,  stood 
As  helpless.     Long  ere  Drake  or  human  power, 
They  thought,  could  put  to  sea,  a  courier  sped 
To  Plymouth  bidding  Drake  forbear  to  strike 
At  Spain,  but  keep  to  the  high  seas,  and,  lo ! 
The  roadstead  glittered  empty.     Drake  was  gone ! 

Gone !     Though  the  friends  of  Spain  had  poured 

their  gold 

To  thin  his  ranks,  and  every  hour  his  crews 
Deserted,  he  had  laughed — "  Let  Spain  buy  scum  I 
Next  to  an  honest  seaman  I  love  best 
An  honest  landsman.     What  more  goodly  task 
Than  teaching  brave  men  seamanship  ?  "     He  had 

filled 
His  ships  with  soldiers!     Out  in  the  teeth  of  the 

gale 

That  raged  against  him  he  had  driven.     In  vain, 
Amid  the  boisterous  laughter  of  the  quays, 
A  pinnace  dashed  in  hot  pursuit,  and  met 

267 


DRAKE 


A  roaring  breaker  and  came  hurtling  back 
With  oars  and  spars  all  trailing  in  the  foam, 
A  tangled  mass  of  wreckage  and  despair. 
Sky  swept  to  stormy  sky :  no  sail  could  live 
In  that  great  yeast  of  waves ;  but  Drake  was  gone ! 

Then,  once  again,  across  the  rolling  sea 

Great  rumours  rushed  of  how  he  had  sacked  the 

port 

Of  Cadiz  and  had  swept  along  the  coast 
To  Lisbon,  where  the  whole  Armada  lay, 
Had  snapped  up  prizes  under  its  very  nose, 
And  taunted  Santa  Cruz,  High  Admiral 
Of  Spain,  striving  to  draw  him  out  for  fight, 
And  offering,  if  his  course  should  lie  that  way, 
To  convoy  him  to  Britain,  taunted  him 
So  bitterly  that  for  once,  in  the  world's  eyes 
A  jest  had  power  to  kill;  for  Santa  Cruz 
Died  with  the  spleen  of  it,  since  he  could  not  move 
Before  the  appointed  season.     Then  there  came 
Flying  back  home,  the  Queen's  old  Admiral 
Borough,  deserting  Drake,  and  all  aghast 
At  Drake's  temerity:  "  For,"  he  said,  "  this  man, 

268 


BOOK    X 


Thrust  o'er  my  head,  against  all  precedent, 
Bade  me  follow  him  into  harbour  mouths 
A-flame  with  cannon  like  the  jaws  of  death, 
Whereat    I    much    demurred;    and    straightway 

Drake 

Clapped  me  in  irons,  me — an  officer 
And  Admiral  of  the  Queen;  and,  though  my  voice 
Was  all  against  it,  plunged  into  the  pit 
Without  me,  left  me  with  some  word  that  burns 
And  rankles  in  me  still,  making  me  fear 
The  man  was  mad,  some  word  of  lonely  seas 
A  desert  island  and  a  mutineer 
And  dead  Magellan's  gallows.     Sirs,  my  life 
Was  hardly  safe  with  him.     Why,  he  resolved 
To  storm  the  Castle  of  St.  Vincent,  sirs, 
A  castle  on  a  cliff,  grinning  with  guns, 
Well-known  impregnable !     The  Spaniards  fear 
Drake;  but  to  see  him  land  below  it  and  bid 
Surrender,  sirs,  the  strongest  fort  of  Spain 
Without  a  blow,  they  laughed !     And  straightway 

he, 

With  all  the  fury  of  Satan,  turned  that  cliff 
To  hell  itself.     He  sent  down  to  the  ships 

269 


DRAKE 


For  faggots,  broken  oars,  beams,  bowsprits,  masts, 
And  piled  them  up  against  the  outer  gates, 
Higher  and  higher,  and  fired  them.     There  he 

stood 

Amid  the  smoke  and  flame  and  cannon-shot, 
This  Admiral,  like  a  common  seaman,  black 
With  soot,  besmeared  with  blood,  his  naked  arms 
Full  of  great  faggots,  labouring  like  a  giant 
And  roaring  like  Apollyon.     Sirs,  he  is  mad! 
But  did  he  take  it,  say  you?     Yea,  he  took  it, 
The  mightiest  stronghold  on  the  coast  of  Spain, 
Took  it  and  tumbled  all  its  big  brass  guns 
Clattering  over  the  cliffs  into  the  sea. 
But,  sirs,  ye  need  not  raise  a  cheer  so  loud ! 
It  is  not  warfare.     'Twas  a  madman's  trick, 
A  devil's  I" 

Then  the  rumour  of  a  storm 
That  scattered  the  fleet  of  Drake  to  the  four  winds 
Disturbed  the  heart  of  England,  as  his  ships 
Came  straggling  into  harbour,  one  by  one, 
Saying  they  could  not  find  him.     Then,  at  last, 
When  the  storm  burst  in  its  earth-shaking  might 
Along  our  coasts,  one  night  of  rolling  gloom 

270 


BOOK    X 


His  cannon  woke  old  Plymouth.     In  he  came 
Across  the  thunder  and  lightning  of  the  sea 
With  his  grim  ship  of  war,  and  close  behind 
A  shadow  like  a  mountain  or  a  cloud 
Torn  from  the  heaven-high  panoplies  of  Spain, 
A  captured  galleon  loomed,  and  round  her  prow 
A  blazoned  scroll,  whence  (as  she  neared  the  quays 
Which  many  a  lanthorn  swung  from  brawny  fist 
Yellowed)  the  sudden  crimson  of  her  name 
San  Filippe  flashed  o'er  the  white  sea  of  faces, 
And  a  rending  shout  went  skyward  that  outroared 
The    blanching    breakers — "  'Tis    the    heart    of 

Spain! 

The  great  San  Filippe f  "     Overhead  she  towered, 
The  mightiest  ship  afloat;  and  in  her  hold 
The  riches  of  a  continent,  a  prize 
Greater  than  earth  had  ever  known;  for  there 
Not  only  ruby  and  pearl  like  ocean  beaches 
Heaped  on  some  wizard  coast  in  that  dim  hull 
Blazed  to  the  lanthorn  light;  not  only  gold 
Gleamed,  though  of  gold  a  million  would  not  buy 
Her  store;  but  in  her  cabin  lay  the  charts 
And  secrets  of  the  wild  unwhispered  wealth 

271 


DRAKE 

Of  India — secrets  that  splashed  London  wharves 
With  coloured  dreams  and  made  her  misty  streets 
Flame  like  an  Eastern  City  when  the  sun 
Shatters  itself  on  jewelled  domes  and  spills 
Its  crimson  wreckage  thro'  the  silvery  palms. 
And  of  those  dreams  the  far  East  India  quest 
Began :  the  first  foundation-stone  was  laid 
Of  our  great  Indian  Empire,  and  a  star 
Began  to  tremble  on  the  brows  of  England 
That  Time  can  never  darken. 

But  now  the  seas 

Darkened  indeed  with  menace;  now  at  last 
The  cold  wind  of  the  black  approaching  wings 
Of  Azrael  crept  across  the  deep :  the  storm 
Throbbed  with  their  thunderous  pulse,  and  ere 

that  moon 

Waned,  a  swift  gunboat  foamed  into  the  Sound 
With  word  that  all  the  Invincible  Armada 
Was  hoisting  sail  for  England. 

Even  now, 

Elizabeth,  torn  a  thousand  ways,  withheld 
The  word  for  which  Drake  pleaded  as  for  life, 

272 


BOOK    X 


That  he  might  meet  them  ere  they  left  their  coasts, 
Meet  them  or  ever  they  reached  the  Channel,  meet 

them 

Now,  or — "  Too  late !  too  late !  "  At  last  his  voice 
Beat  down  e'en  those  that  blindly  dinned  her  ears 
With  chatter  of  meeting  Spain  on  British  soil; 
And  swiftly  she  commanded  (seeing  once  more 
The  light  that  burned  amid  the  approaching 

gloom 
In  Drake's  deep  eyes)  Lord  Howard  of 

Effingham, 

High  Admiral  of  England,  straight  to  join  him 
At    Plymouth    Sound.     "How   many   ships    are 

wanted?" 

She  asked  him,  thinking  "  we  are  few,  indeed !  " 
"  Give  me  but  sixteen  merchantmen,"  he  said, 
"  And  but  four  battleships,  by  the  mercy  of  God, 
I'll  answer  for  the  Armada!"     Out  to  sea 
They  swept,  in  the  teeth  of  a  gale;  but  vainly 

Drake 

Strove  to  impart  the  thought  wherewith  his  mind 
Travailed — to  win  command  of  the  ocean  sea 
By  bursting  on  the  fleets  of  Spain  at  once 

273 


DRAKE 

Even  as  they  left  their  ports,  not  as  of  old 

To  hover  in  a  vain  dream  of  defence 

Round  fifty  threatened  points  of  British  coast, 

But  Howard,  clinging  to  his  old-world  order, 

Flung  out  his  ships  in  a  loose,  long,  straggling  line 

Across  the  Channel,  waiting,  wary,  alert, 

But  powerless  thus  as  a  string  of  scattered  sea-gulls 

Beating  against  the  storm.     Then,  flying  to  meet 

them, 

A  merchantman  brought  terror  down  the  wind, 
With  news  that  she  had  seen  that  monstrous  host 
Stretching  from  sky  to  sky,  great  hulks  of  doom, 
Dragging  death's  midnight  with  them  o'er  the  sea 
Tow'rds   England.     Up  to  Howard's   flagship 

Drake 

In  his  immortal  battle-ship — Revenge, 
Rushed  thro'  the  foam,  and  thro'  the  swirling  seas 
His  pinnace  dashed  alongside.     On  to  the  decks 
OJ  the  tossing  flag-ship,  like  a  very  Viking 
Shaking  the  surf  and  rainbows  of  the  spray 
From  sun-smit  lion-like  mane  and  beard  he  stood 
Before  Lord  Howard  in  the  escutcheoned  poop 
And  poured  his  heart  out  like  the  rending  sea 

274 


BOOK    X 


In  passionate  wave  on  wave: 

"  If  yonder  fleet 

Once  reach  the  Channel,  hardly  the  mercy  of  God 
Saves   England!     I   would   pray   with   my   last 

breath, 

Let  us  beat  up  to  windward  of  them  now, 
And  handle  them  before  they  reach  the  Channel." 
"Nay;   but  we   cannot   bare   the    coast,"    cried 

Howard, 

"  Nor  have  we  stores  of  powder  or  food  enough !  " 
"  My  lord,"  said  Drake,  with  his  great  arm 

outstretched, 

*  There  is  food  enough  in  yonder  enemy's  ships, 
And  powder  enough  and  cannon-shot  enough ! 
We  must  revictual  there.    Look !  look ! "  he  cried, 
And  pointed  to  the  heavens.     As  for  a  soul 
That  by  sheer  force  of  will  compels  the  world 
To  work  his  bidding,  so  it  seemed  the  wind 
That  blew  against  them  slowly  veered.     The  sails 
Quivered,  the  skies  revolved.     A  northerly  breeze 
Awoke,  and  now,  behind  the  British  ships, 
Blew  steadily  tow'rds  the  unseen  host  of  Spain. 
"  It  is  the  breath  of  God,"  cried  Drake,  "  they  lie 

275 


DRAKE 

Wind-bound,   and  we  may  work  our  will  with 

them. 

Signal  the  word,  Lord  Howard,  and  drive  down !  " 
And  as  a  man  convinced  by  Heaven  itself 
Lord  Howard  ordered,  straightway,  the  whole 

fleet 
To  advance. 

And  now,  indeed,  as  Drake  foresaw, 
The  Armada  lay,  beyond  the  dim  horizon, 
Wind-bound  and  helpless  in  Corunna  Bay, 
At  England's  mercy,  could  her  fleet  but  draw 
Nigh  enough,  with  its  fire-ships  and  great  guns 
To  windward.     Nearer,  nearer  league  by  league 
The  ships  of  England  came ;  till  Ushant  lay 
Some   seventy  leagues  behind.     Then,   yet  once 

more 
The  wind  veered,  straight  against  them.     To 

remain 

Beating  against  it  idly  was  to  starve: 
And,  as  a  man  whose  power  upon  the  world 
Fails  for  one  moment  of  exhausted  will, 
Drake,  gathering  up  his  forces  as  he  went 

For  one  more  supreme  effort,  turned  his  ship 

276 


BOOK    X 


Tow'rds  Plymouth,  and  retreated  with  the  rest. 

There,  while  the  ships  refitted  with  all  haste 
And  ax  and  hammer  rang,  one  golden  eve 
Just  as  the  setting  sun  began  to  fringe 
The  clouds  with  crimson,  and  the  creaming  waves 
Were  one  wild  riot  of  fairy  rainbows,  Drake 
Stood  with  old   comrades   on  the   close-cropped 

green 

Of  Plymouth  Hoe,  playing  a  game  of  bowls. 
Far  off  unseen,  a  little  barque,  full-sail, 
Struggled  and  leapt  and  strove  tow'rds  Plymouth 

Sound, 

Noteless  as  any  speckled  herring-gull 
Flickering  between  the  white  flakes  of  the  waves. 
A  group  of  schoolboys  with  their  satchels  lay 
Stretched  on  the  green,  gazing  with  great  wide 

eyes 

Upon  their  seamen  heroes,  as  like  gods 
Disporting  with  the  battles  of  the  world 
They  loomed,  tossing  black  bowls  like  cannon-balls 
Against  the  rosy  West,  or  lounged  at  ease 
With  faces  olive-dark  against  that  sky 

277 


DRAKE 


Laughing,  while  from  the  neighbouring  inn  mine 

host, 

White-aproned  and  blue-jerkined,  hurried  out 
With  foaming  cups  of  sack,  and  they  drank  deep, 
Tossing  their  heads  back  under  the  golden  clouds 
And  burying  their  bearded  lips.     The  hues 
That  slashed  their  doublets,  for  the  boys*  bright 

eyes 

(Even  as  the  gleams  of  Grecian  cloud  or  moon 
Revealed  the  old  gods)    were  here  rich   dusky 

streaks 

Of  splendour  from  the  Spanish  Main,  that  shone 
But  to  proclaim  these  heroes.     There  a  boy 
More  bold  crept  nearer  to  a  slouched  hat  thrown 
Upon  the  green,  and  touched  the  silver  plume, 
And  felt  as  if  he  had  touched  a  sunset-isle 
Of  feathery  palms  beyond  a  crimson  sea. 
Another  stared  at  the  blue  rings  of  smoke 
A  storm-scarred  seaman  puffed  from  a  long  pipe 
Primed  with  the  strange  new  herb  they  had  lately 

found 

In  far  Virginia.     But  the  little  ship 
Now  plunging  into  Plymouth  Bay  none  saw. 

278 


BOOK    X 


E'en  when  she  had  anchored  and  her  straining 

boat 
Had  touched  the  land,  and  the  boat's  crew  over 

the  quays 

Leapt  with  a  shout,  scarce  was  there  one  to  heed. 
A  seaman,  smiling,  swaggered  out  of  the  inn 
Swinging  in  one  brown  hand  a  gleaming  cage 
Wherein  a  big  green  parrot  chattered  and  clung 
Fluttering  against  the  wires.     A  troop  of  girls 
With  arms  linked  paused  to  watch  the  game  of 

bowls ; 

And  now  they  flocked  around  the  cage,  while  one 
With  rosy  finger  tempted  the  horny  beak 
To  bite.     Close  overhead  a  sea-mew  flashed 
Seaward.     Once,  from  an  open  window,  soft 
Through  trellised  leaves,  not  far  away,  a  voice 
Floated — a  voice  that  flushed  the  cheek  of  Drake, 
The  voice  of  Bess,  bending  her  glossy  head 
Over  the  broidery  frame,  in  a  quiet  song. 

The  song  ceased.     Still,  with  rainbows  in  their 
eyes, 

The  schoolboys  watched  the  bowls  like  cannon- 
balls 

279 


DRAKE 


Roll  from  the  hand  of  gods  along  the  turf. 
Suddenly,  tow'rds  the  green,  a  little  cloud 
Of  seamen,  shouting,  stumbling,  as  they  ran 
Drew  all  eyes  on  them.     The  game  ceased.     A 

voice 

Rough  with  the  storms  of  many  an  ocean  roared, 
"  Drake !  Cap'en  Drake !     The  Armada ! 
They  are  in  the  Channel !     We  sighted  them — 
A  line  of  battle-ships !     We  could  not  see 
An  end  of  them.     They  stretch  from  east  to  west 
Like  a  great  storm  of  clouds,  glinting  with  guns, 
From  sky  to  sky !  " 

'So,  after  all  his  strife, 

The  wasted  weeks  had  tripped  him,  the  fierce  hours 
Of  pleading  for  the  sea's  command,  great  hours 
And  golden  moments,  all  were  lost.     The  fleet 
Of  Spain  had  won  the  Channel  without  a  blow. 
All  eyes  were  turned  on  Drake,  as  he  stood  there 
A  giant  against  the  sunset  and  the  sea 
Looming,  alone.     Far  off,  the  first  white  star 
Gleamed  in  a  rosy  space  of  heaven.     He  tossed 
A  grim  black  ball  i'  the  lustrous  air  and  laughed, — 
"  Come,  lads,"  he  said,  "  we've  time  to  finish  the 

game!  " 

280 


BOOK    XI 

FEW  minutes,  and  well  wasted  those,  were 
spent 
On  that  great  game  of  bowls;  for  well 

knew  Drake 

What  panic  threatened  Plymouth,  since  his  fleet 
Lay  trapped  there  by  the  black  headwind  that 

blew 

Straight  up  the  Sound,  and  Plymouth  town  itself, 
Except  the  ships  won  seaward  ere  the  dawn, 
Lay  at  the  Armada's  mercy.     Never  a  seaman 
Of  all  the  sea-dogs  clustered  on  the  quays, 
And   all   the    captains   clamouring   round   Lord 

Howard, 

Hoped  that  one  ship  might  win  to  the  open  sea: 
At  dawn,  they  thought,  the  Armada's  rolling 

guns 

To  windward,  in  an  hour,  must  shatter  them, 
Huddled  in  their  red  slaughter-house  like  sheep. 

Now  was  the  great  sun  sunken  and  the  night 

281 


DRAKE 


Dark.     Far  to  Westward,  like  the  soul  of  man 
Fighting  blind  nature,  a  wild  flare  of  red 
Upon  some  windy  headland  suddenly  leapt 
And  vanished  flickering  into  the  clouds.     Again 
It  leapt  and  vanished:  then  all  at  once  it  streamed 
Steadily  as  a  crimson  torch  upheld 
By  Titan  hands  to  heaven.     It  was  the  first 
Beacon!     A  sudden  silence  swept  along 
The  seething  quays,  and  in  their  midst  appeared 
Drake. 

Then  the  jubilant  thunder  of  his  voice 
Rolled,  buffeting  the  sea-wind  far  and  nigh, 
And  ere  they  knew  what  power  as  of  a  sea 
Surged  through  them,  his  immortal  battle-ship 
Revenge  had  flung  out  cables  to  the  quays, 
And  while  the  seamen,  as  he  had  commanded, 
Knotted  thick  ropes  together,  lie  stood  apart 
(For  well  he  knew  what  panic  threatened  still) 
Whittling  idly  at  a  scrap  of  wood, 
And  carved  a  little  boat  out  for  the  child 
Of  some  old  sea  companion. 
So  great  and  calm  a  master  of  the  world 
Seemed  Drake  that,  as  he  whittled,  and  the  chips 

282 


BOOK    XI 


Fluttered  into  the  blackness  over  the  quay, 
Men  said  that  in  this  hour  of  England's  need 
Each  tiny  flake  turned  to  a  battle-ship; 
For  now  began  the  lanthorns,  one  by  one, 
To  glitter,  and  half-reveal  the  shadowy  hulks 
Before  him. — So  the  huge  old  legend  grew, 
Not  all  unworthy  the  Homeric  age 
Of  gods  and  godlike  men. 

St.  Michael's  Mount, 
Answering  the  first  wild  beacon  far  away, 
Rolled  crimson  thunders  to  the  stormy  sky! 
The  ropes  were  knotted.     Through  the  panting 

dark 

Great  heaving  lines  of  seamen  all  together 
Hauled  with  a  shout,  and  all  together  again 
Hauled  with  a  shout  against  the  roaring  wind; 
And  slowly,  slowly,  onward  tow'rds  the  sea 
Moved  the  Revenge,  and  seaward  ever  heaved 
The  brawny  backs  together,  and  in  their  midst, 
Suddenly,  as  they  slackened,  Drake  was  there 
Hauling  like  any  ten,  and  with  his  heart 
Doubling  the  strength  of  all,  giving  them  joy 
Of  battle  against  those  odds, — Ay,  till  they  found 

283 


DRAKE 


Delight  i'  the  burning  tingle  of  the  blood 
That  even  their  hardy  hands  must  feel  besmear 
The  harsh,  rough,  straining  ropes.     There  as  they 

toiled, 

Answering  a  score  of  hills,  old  Beachy  Head 
Streamed  like  a  furnace  to  the  rolling  clouds. 
Then  all  around  the  coast  each  windy  ness 
And  craggy  mountain  kindled.     Peak  from  peak 
Caught  the  tremendous  fire,  and  passed  it  on 
Round  the  bluff  East  and  the  black  mouth  of 

Thames, — 

Ay,  Northward  to  the  waste  wild  Yorkshire  fells 
And  gloomy  Cumberland,  where,  like  a  giant, 
Great  Skiddaw  grasped  the  red  tempestuous  brand, 
And  thrust  it  up  against  the  reeling  heavens. 
Then  all  night  long,  inland,  the  wandering  winds 
Ran  wild  with  clamour  and  clash  of  startled  bells; 
All  night  the  cities  seethed  with  torches,  flashed 
With  twenty  thousand  flames  of  burnished  steel; 
While  over  the  trample  and  thunder  of  hooves 

blazed  forth 

The  lightning  of  wild  trumpets.     Lonely  lanes 
Of  country  darkness,  lit  by  cottage  doors 
Entwined  with  rose  and  honeysuckle,  roared 

284 


BOOK    XI 


Like   mountain   torrents   now — East,   West,   and 

South, 

As  to  the  coasts  with  pike  and  musket  streamed 
The  trained  bands,  horse  and  foot,  from  every 

town 

And  every  hamlet.     All  the  shaggy  hills 
From  Milford  Haven  to  the  Downs  of  Kent, 
And  up  to  Humber,  gleamed  with  many  a  hedge 
Of  pikes  between  the  beacon's  crimson  glares; 
While  in  red  London  forty  thousand  men, 
In  case  the  invader  should  prevail,  drew  swords 
Around  their  Queen.     All  night  in  dark  St,  Paul's, 
While  round  it  rolled  a  multitudinous  roar 
As  of  the  Atlantic  on  a  Western  beach, 
And  all  the  leaning  London  streets  were  lit 
With  fury  of  torches,  rose  the  passionate  prayer 
Of  England's  peril : 

O  Lord  God  of  Hosts, 

Let  Thine  enemies  know  that  Thou  hast  taken 
England  into  Thine  hands! 

The  mighty  sound 
Rolled,  billowing  round  the  kneeling  aisles,  then 

died, 

Echoing  up  the  heights.     A  voice,  far  off, 

285 


DRAKE 

As  on  the  cross  of  Calvary,  caught  it  up 

And  poured  the  prayer  o'er  that  deep  hush,  alone : 

We  beseech  thee,  O  God,  to  go  before  our  armies, 

Bless  and  prosper  them  both  by  land  and  sea! 

Grant  unto  them  Thy  victory,  O  God, 

As  thou  usedst  to  do  to  Thy  children  when  they 

please  Thee! 
All  power,  all  strength,  all  victory   come  from 

Thee! 

Then  from  the  lips  of  all  those  thousands  burst 
A  sound  as  from  the  rent  heart  of  an  ocean, 
One  tumult,  one  great  rushing  storm  of  wings 
Cleaving  the  darkness  round  the  Gates  of  Heaven : 
Some  put  their  trust  in  chariots  and  some  in  horses; 
But  we  will  remember  (Thy  name,  O  Lord,  our 

God! 

So,  while  at  Plymouth  Sound  her  seamen  toiled 
All  through  the  night,  and  scarce  a  ship  had  won 
Seaward,  the  heart  of  England  cried  to  God. 
All  night,  while  trumpets  yelled  and  blared 

without, 

And  signal  cannon  shook  the  blazoned  panes, 

286 


BOOK    XI 


And  billowing  multitudes  went  thundering  by, 
Amid  that  solemn  pillared  hush  arose 
From  lips  of  kneeling  thousands  one  great  prayer 
Storming  the  Gates  of  Heaven!     O  Lord,  our 

God, 

Heavenly  Father,  have  mercy  upon  our  Queen, 
To  whom  Thy  far  dispersed  flock  do  fly 
In  the  anguish  of  their  souls.     Behold,  behold, 
How  many  princes  band  themselves  against  her, 
How  long  Thy  servant  hath  laboured  to  them  for 

peace, 

How  proudly  they  prepare  themselves  for  battle! 
Arise t  therefore!     Maintain  Thine  own  cause, 
Judge  Thou  between  her  and  her  enemies! 
She  seeketh  not  her  own  honour,  but  Thine, 
Not  the  dominions  of  others,  but  Thy  truth, 
Not  bloodshed,  but  the  saving  of  the  afflicted! 
Oh,  rend  the  heavens,  therefore,  and  come  down, 
Deliver  Thy  people! 
To  vanquish  is  all  one  with  Thee,  by  few 
Or  many,  want  or  wealth,  weakness  or  strength. 
The  cause  is  Thine,  the  enemies  Thine,  the  afflicted 
Thine!     The  honour,  victory,  and  triumph 

287 


DRAKE 

Thine!     Grant   her  people   now   one   heart,   one 

mind, 
One  strength.     Give  unto  her  councils  and  her 

captains 

Wisdom  and  courage  strongly  to  withstand 
The  forces  of  her  enemies,  that  the  fame 
And  glory  of  Thy  Kingdom  may  be  spread 
Unto  the  ends  of  the  world.     Father,  we  crave 
This  in  Thy  mercy t  for  the  precious  death 
Of    Thy   dear  Son,   our  Saviour,   Jesus   Christ! 
Amen. 
And   as   the   dreadful   dawn   thro*    mist-wreaths 

broke, 

And  out  of  Plymouth  Sound  at  last,  with  cheers 
Ringing  from  many  a  thousand  throats,   there 

struggled 

Six  little  ships,  all  that  the  night's  long  toil 
Had  warped  down  to  the  sea  (but  leading  them 
The  ship  of  Drake)  there  rose  one  ocean  cry 
From  all  those  worshippers — Let  God  arise, 
And  let  His  enemies  be  scattered! 

Under  the  leaden  fogs  of  that  new  dawn, 

288 


BOOK    XI 


Empty  and  cold,  indifferent  as  death, 
The  sea  heaved  strangely  to  the  seamen's  eyes, 
Seeing  all  round  them  only  the  leaden  surge 
Wrapped  in  wet  mists  or  flashing  here  and  there 
With  crumbling  white.    Against  the  cold  wet  wind 
Westward  the  little  ships  of  England  beat 
With  short  tacks,  close  inshore,  striving  to  win 
The  windward  station  of  the  threatening  battle 
That  neared  behind  the  veil.     Six  little  ships, 
No  more,  beat  Westward,  even  as  all  mankind 
Beats  up  against  that  universal  wind 
Whereon  like  withered  leaves  all  else  is  blown 
Down  one  wide  way  to  death :  the  soul  alone, 
Whether  at  last  it  wins,  or  faints  and  fails, 
Stems  the  dark  tide  with  its  intrepid  sails. 
Close-hauled,  with  many  a  short  tack,  struggled 

and  strained, 

Northwest,  Southwest,  the  ships;  but  ever  West 
ward  gained 

Some  little  way  with  every  tack;  and  soon, 
While  the  prows  plunged  beneath  the  grey-gold 

noon, 

Lapped  by  the  crackling  waves,  even  as  the  wind 

289 


DRAKE 

Died  down  a  little,  in  the  mists  behind 

Stole  out  from   Plymouth  Sound  the  struggling 

score 

Of  ships  that  might  not  win  last  night  to  sea. 
They  followed ;  but  the  Six  went  on  before, 
Not  knowing,  alone,  for  God  and  Liberty. 

Now,  as  they  tacked  Northwest,  the  sullen  roar 
Of  reefs  crept  out,  or  some  strange  bleating  sound 

Of  sheep  upon  the  hills.  Southwest  once  more 
The  bo'sun's  whistle  swung  their  bowsprits  round; 

Southwest  until  the  long  low  lapping  splash 
Was  all  they  heard  of  keels  that  still  ran  out 

Seaward,  then  with  one  muffled  heave  and  crash 
Once  more  the  whistles  brought  their  sails  about. 

And  now  the  noon  began  to  wane;  the  West 

With  slow  rich  colours  filled  and  shadowy  forms, 

Dark  curdling  wreaths  and  fogs  with  crimsoned  breast, 
And  tangled  zones  of  dusk  like  frozen  storms, 

Motionless,  flagged  with  sunset,  hulled  with  doom! 
Motionless?    Nay,  across  the  darkening  deep 
290 


BOOK    XI 


Surely  the  whole  sky  moved  its  gorgeous  gloom 
Onward;  and  like  the  curtains  of  a  sleep 

The  red  fogs  crumbled,  mists  dissolved  away! 

There,  like  death's  secret  dawning  thro'  a  dream, 
Great  thrones  of  thunder  dusked  the  dying  day, 

And,  higher,  pale  towers  of  cloud  began  to  gleam. 

There,  in  one  heaven-wide  storm,  great  masts  and  clouds 

Of  sail  crept  slowly  forth,  the  ships  of  Spain ! 
From  North  to  South,  their  tangled  spars  and  shrouds 

Controlled  the  slow  wind  as  with  bit  and  rein ; 
Onward  they  rode  in  insolent  disdain 

Sighting  the  little  fleet  of  England  there, 
While  o'er  the  sullen  splendour  of  the  main 

Three  solemn  guns  tolled  all  their  host  to  prayer, 
And   their   great  ensign  blazoned   all  the  doom-fraught 
air. 

The  sacred  standard  of  their  proud  crusade 
Up  to  the  mast-head  of  their  flag-ship  soared: 

On  one  side  knelt  the  Holy  Mother-maid, 
On  one  the  crucified  Redeemer  poured 

His  blood,  and  all  their  kneeling  hosts  adored 

291 


DRAKE 


Their    saints,     and     clouds    of     incense     heavenward 

streamed, 
While  pomp  of  cannonry  and  pike  and  sword 

Down  long  sea-lanes  of  mocking  menace  gleamed, 
And   chant  of   priests  rolled  out  o'er  seas  that   darkly 
dreamed. 

Who  comes  to  fight  for  England?     Is  it  ye, 

Six  little  straws  that  dance  upon  the  foam? 
Ay,  sweeping  o'er  the  sunset-crimsoned  sea 

Let  the  proud  pageant  in  its  glory  come, 
Leaving  the  sunset  like  a  hecatomb 

Of  souls  whose  bodies  yet  endure  the  chain! 
Let  slaves,  by  thousands,  branded,  scarred  and  dumb, 

In  those  dark  galleys  grip  their  oars  again, 
And  o'er  the  rolling  deep  bring  on  the  pomp  of  Spain ; — 

Bring  on  the  pomp  of  royal  paladins 

(For  all  the  princedoms  of  the  land  are  there!) 

And  for  the  gorgeous  purple  of  their  sins 

The  papal  pomp  bring  on  with  psalm  and  prayer: 

Nearer  the  splendour  heaves;  can  ye  not  hear 
The  rushing  foam,  not  see  the  blazoned  arms, 

And  black-faced  hosts  thro'  leagues  of  golden  air 

292 


BOOK    XI 


Crowding     the     decks,     muttering    their    beads     and 

charms 

To  where,  in  furthest  heaven,  they  thicken  like  locust- 
swarms  ? 

Bring  on  the  pomp  and  pride  of  old  Castile, 

Blazon  the  skies  with  royal  Aragon, 
Beneath  Oquendo  let  old  ocean  reel, 

The  purple  pomp  of  priestly  Rome  bring  on; 
And  let  her  censers  dusk  the  dying  sun, 

The  thunder  of  her  banners  on  the  breeze 
Following  Sidonia's  glorious  galleon 

Deride  the  sleeping  thunder  of  the  seas, 
While  twenty  thousand  warriors  chant  her  litanies. 

Lo,  all  their  decks  are  kneeling!     Sky  to  sky 

Responds!     It  is  their  solemn  evening  hour. 
SALVE  REGINA,  though  the  daylight  die, 

SALVE  REGINA,  though  the  darkness  lour; 
Have  they  not  still  the  kingdom  and  the  power? 

SALVE  REGINA,  hark,  their  thousands  cry, 
From  where  like  clouds  to  where  like  mountains  tower 

Their  crowded  galleons  looming  far  or  nigh, 
SALVE  REGINA,  hark,  what  distant  seas  reply! 

293 


DRAKE 


What  distant  seas,  what  distant  ages  hear? 

Bring  on  the  pomp !  the  sun  of  Spain  goes  down : 
The  moon  but  swells  the  tide  of  praise  and  prayer; 

Bring  on  the  world-wide  pomp  of  her  renown; 
Let  darkness  crown  her  with  a  starrier  crown, 

And  let  her  watch  the  fierce  waves  crouch  and  fawn 
Round  those  huge  hulks  from  which  her  cannon  frown, 

While  close  inshore  the  wet  sea-mists  are  drawn 
Round  England's  Drake:  then  wait,  in  triumph,  for  the 
dawn. 

The  sun  of  Rome  goes  down;  the  night  is  dark! 

Still  are  her  thousands  praying,  still  their  cry 
Ascends  from  the  wide  waste  of  waters,  hark! 

AVE  MARIA,  darker  grows  the  sky! 
AVE  MARIA,  those  about  to  die 

Salute  theel     Nay,  what  wandering  winds  blaspheme 
With  random  gusts  of  chilling  prophecy 

Against  the  solemn  sounds  that  heavenward  stream! 
The  night   is   come  at  last.     Break   not  the   splendid 
dream. 

But  through  the  misty  darkness,  close  inshore, 
Northwest,  Southwest,  and  ever  Westward 
strained 

294 


BOOK    XI 


The  little  ships  of  England,  all  night  long, 
As  down  the  coast  the  reddening  beacons  leapt, 
The  crackle  and  lapping  splash  of  tacking  keels, 
The  bo'sun's  low  sharp  whistles  and  the  whine 
Of  ropes,  mixing  with  many  a  sea-bird's  cry 
Disturbed  the  darkness,, waking  vague  swift  fears 
Among  the  mighty  hulks  of  Spain  that  lay 
Nearest,  then  fading  through  the  mists  inshore 
Northwest,  then  growing  again,  but  farther  down 
Their  ranks  to  Westward  with  each  dark  return 
And  dark  departure,  till  the  rearmost  rank 
Of  grim  sea-castles  heard  the  swish  and  creak 
Pass  plashing  seaward  thro'  the  wet  sea-mists 
To  windward  now  of  all  that  monstrous  host, 
Then  heard  no  more  than  wandering  sea-birds' 

cries 

Wheeling  around  their  leagues  of  lanthorn-light, 
Or  heave  of  waters,  waiting  for  the  dawn. 

Dawn,  everlasting  and  almighty  dawn 

Rolled  o'er  the  waters,  the  grey  mists  were  fled : 

See,  in  their  reeking  heaven-wide  crescent  drawn 
Those  masts  and  spars  and  cloudy  sails,  outspread 
295 


DRAKE 

Like  one  great  sulphurous  tempest  soaked  with  red, 
In  vain  withstand  the  march  of  brightening  skies : 

The  dawn  sweeps  onward  and  the  night  is  dead, 
And,  lo!  to  windward,  what  bright  menace  lies, 

What  glory  kindles  now  in  England's  wakening  eyes? 

There,  on  the  glittering  plains  of  open  sea, 

To  windward  now,  behind  the  fleets  of  Spain, 
Two  little  files  of  ships  are  tossing  free, 

Free  of  the  winds  and  of  the  wind-swept  main: 
Were   they   not   trapped?     Who   brought  them   forth 
again, 

Free  of  the  great  new  fields  of  England's  war, 
With  sails  like  blossoms  shining  after  rain, 

And  guns  that  sparkle  to  the  morning  star? 
Drake! — first  upon  the  deep  that  rolls  to  Trafalgar! 

And  Spain  knows  well  that  flag  of  fiery  fame, 
Spain  knows  who  leads  those  files  across  the  sea; 

Implacable,  invincible,  his  name 

El  Draque,  creeps  hissing  through  her  ranks  to  lee; 

But  now  she  holds  the  rolling  heavens  in  fee, 
His  ships  are  few.     They  surge  across  the  foam, 

The  hunt  is  up!    But  need  the  mountains  flee 

246 


BOOK    XI 


Or  fear  the  snarling  wolf-pack?     Let  them  come! 
They  crouch,  but  dare  not  leap  upon  the  flanks  of  Rome. 

Nearer  they  come  and  nearer!    Nay,  prepare! 

Close  your  huge  ranks  that  sweep  from  sky  to  sky! 
Madness  itself  would  shrink;  but  Drake  will  dare 

Eternal  hell!     Let  the  great  signal  fly — 
Close  up  your  ranks;  El  Draque  comes  down  to  die! 

El  Draque  is  brave!    The  vast  sea -cities  loom 
Thro'  heaven:  Spain  spares  one  smile  of  chivalry, 

One  wintry  smile  across  her  cannons'  gloom 
As  that  frail  fleet  full-sail  comes  rushing  tow'rds   its 
doom. 

Suddenly,  as  the  wild  change  of  a  dream, 

Even  as  the  Spaniards  watched  those  lean  sharp 

prows 
Leap  straight  at  their  huge  hulks,  watched  well 

content, 
Knowing    their    foes,    once    grappled,    must    be 

doomed; 

Even  as  they  caught  the  rush  and  hiss  of  foam 
Across  that  narrow,  dwindling  gleam  of  sea, 
And  heard,  abruptly  close,  the  sharp  commands 

297 


DRAKE 


And  steady  British  answers,  caught  one  glimpse 
Of  bare-armed  seamen  waiting  by  their  guns, 
The   vision    changed!     The    ships    of    England 

swerved 

Swiftly — a  volley  of  flame  and  thunder  swept 
Blinding  the  buffeted  air,  a  volley  of  iron 
From  four  sheer  broadsides,  crashing  thro'  a  hulk 
Of  Spain.     She  reeled,  blind  in  the  fiery  surge 
And  fury  of  that  assault.     So  swift  it  seemed 
That  as  she  heeled  to  leeward,  ere  her  guns 
Trained  on  the  foe  once  more,  the  sulphurous  cloud 
That  wrapped  the  sea,  once,  twice,  and  thrice  again 
Split  with  red  thunder-claps  that  rent  and  raked 
Her  huge  beams  through  and  through.     Ay,  as 

she  heeled 

To  leeward  still,  her  own  grim  cannon  belched 
Their  lava  skyward,  wounding  the  void  air, 
And,  as  by  miracle,  the  ships  of  Drake 
Were  gone.     Along  the  Spanish  rear  they  swept 
From  North  to  South,  raking  them  as  they  went 
At  close  range,  hardly  a  pistol-shot  away, 
With  volley  on  volley.     Never  Spain  had  seen 
Seamen  or  marksmen  like  to  these  who  sailed 

298 


BOOK    XI 


Two  knots  against  her  one.     They  came  and  went, 
Suddenly  neared  or  sheered  away  at  will 
As  if  by  magic,  pouring  flame  and  iron 
In  four  full  broadsides  thro'  some  Spanish  hulk 
Ere  one  of  hers  burst  blindly  at  the  sky. 
Southward,  along  the  Spanish  rear  they  swept, 
Then  swung  about,  and  volleying  sheets  of  flame, 
Iron,  and  death,  along  the  same  fierce  road 
Littered  with  spars,  reeking  with  sulphurous  fumes, 
Returned,  triumphantly  rushing,  all  their  sails 
Alow,  aloft,  full-bellied  with  the  wind. 

Then,  then,  from  sky  to  sky,  one  mighty  surge 

Of  baleful  pride,  huge  wrath,  stormy  disdain, 
With  shuddering  clouds  and  towers  of  sail  would  urge 

Onward  the  heaving  citadels  of  Spain, 
Which  dragged  earth's  thunders  o'er  the  groaning  main, 

And  held  the  panoplies  of  faith  in  fee, 
Beating  against  the  wind,  struggling  in  vain 

To  close  with  that  swift  ocean  cavalry : 
Spain  had  all  earth  in  charge!     Had  England,  then,  the 
sea? 

Spain  had  the  mountains — mountains  flow  like  clouds! 

299 


DRAKE 


Spain  had  great  kingdoms — kingdoms  melt  away ! 
Yet,  in  that  crescent,  army  on  army  crowds, 

How  shall  she  fear  what  seas  or  winds  can  say  ? — 
The  seas  that  leap  and  shine  round  earth's  decay, 

The  winds  that  mount  and  sing  while  empires  fall, 
And  mountains  pass  like  waves  in  the  wind's  way, 

And  dying  gods  thro'  shuddering  twilights  call; 
Had  England,  then,  the  sea  that  sweeps  o'er  one  and 
all? 

See,  in  gigantic  wrath  the  Rata  hurls 

Her  mighty  prows  round  to  the  wild  sea-wind: 
The  deep  like  one  black  maelstrom  round  her  swirls 

While  great  Recalde  follows  hard  behind: 
Reeling,   like   Titans,   thunder-blasted,   blind, 

They  strive  to  cross  the  ships  of  England — yea, 
Challenge  them  to  the  grapple,  and  only  find 

Red  broadsides  bursting  o'er  the  bursting  spray, 
And  England  surging  still  along  her  windward  way! 

To  windward  still  Revenge  and  Raleigh  flasri 
And  thunder,  and  the  sea  flames  red  between: 

In  vain  against  the  wind  the  galleons  crash 
And  plunge  and  pour  blind  volleys  thro*  the  screen 
300 


BOOK    XI 


Of  rolling  sulphurous  clouds  at  dimly  seen 
Topsails  that,  to  and  fro,  like  sea-birds  fly! 

Ever  to  leeward  the  great  hulks  careen; 

Their  thousand  cannon  can  but  wound  the  sky, 

While  England's  little  Rainbow  foams  and  flashes  by. 

Suddenly  the  flag-ship  of  Recalde,  stung 
To  fury  it  seemed,  heeled  like  an  avalanche 
To  leeward,  then  reeled  out  beyond  the  rest 
Against  the  wind,  alone,  daring  the  foe 
To  grapple  her.     At  once  the  little  Revenge 
With  Drake's  flag  flying  flashed  at  her  throat, 
And  hardly  a  cable's-length  away  out-belched 
Broadside  on  broadside,  under  those  great  cannon, 
Crashing  through  five-foot  beams,  four  shots  to 

one, 

While  Howard  and  the  rest  swept  to  and  fro 
Keeping  at  deadly  bay  the  rolling  hulks 
That  looming  like  Leviathans  now  plunged 
Desperately  against  the  freshening  wind 
To  rescue  the  great  flag-ship  where  she  lay 
Alone,  amid  the  cannonades  of  Drake, 
Alone,  like  a  volcanic  island  lashed 

301 


DRAKE 


With  crimson  hurricanes,  dinning  the  winds 
With  isolated  thunders,  flaking  the  skies 
With  wrathful  lava,  while  great  spars  and  blocks 
Leapt  through  the  cloudy  glare  and  fell,  far  off, 
Like  small  black  stones  into  the  hissing  sea. 

Oquendo  saw  her  peril  far  away! 

His  rushing  prow  thro'  heaven  begins  to  loom, 
Oquendo,  first  in  all  that  proud  array, 

Hath  heart  the  pride  of  Spain  to  reassume: 
He  comes;  the  rolling  seas  are  dusked  with  gloom 

Of  his  great  sails!     Now  round  him  once  again, 
Thrust  out  your  oars,  ye  mighty  hulks  of  doom ; 

Forward,  with  hiss  of  whip  and  clank  of  chain! 
Let  twice  ten  hundred  slaves  bring  on  the  wrath  of 
Spain ! 

Sidonia  comes!    Toledo  comes! — huge  ranks 

That  rally  against  the  storm  from  sky  to  sky, 
As  down  the  dark  blood-rusted  chain-locked  planks 

Of  labouring  galleys  the  dark  slave-guards  ply 
Their  knotted  scourges,  and  the  red  flakes  fly 

From  bare  scarred  backs  that  quiver  and  heave  once 
more, 

302 


BOOK    XI 


And  slaves  that  heed  not  if  they  live  or  die 

Pull  with  numb  arms  at  many  a  red-stained  oar, 
Nor  know  the  sea's  dull  crash  from  cannon's  growing 
roar. 

Bring  on  the  wrath!    From  heaven  to  rushing  heaven 

The  white  foam  sweeps  around  their  fierce  array; 
In  vain  before  their  shattering  crimson  levin 

The  ships  of  England  flash  and  dart  away: 
Not  England's  heart  can  hold  that  host  at  bay! 

See,  a  swift  signal  shoots  along  her  line, 
Her  ships  are  scattered ;  they  fly,  they  fly  like  spray 

Driven  against  the  wind  by  wrath  divine, 
While,  round  Recalde  now,  Sidonia's  cannon  shine. 

The  wild  sea-winds  with  golden  trumpets  blaze! 

One  wave  will  wash  away  the  crimson  stain 
That  blots  Recalde's  decks.     Her  first  amaze 

Is  over:  down  the  Channel  once  again 
Turns  the  triumphant  pageantry  of  Spain 

In  battle-order,  now.     Behind  her,  far, 
While  the  broad  sun  sinks  to  the  Western  main, 

Glitter  the  little  ships  of  England's  war, 
And  over  them  in  heaven  glides  out  the  first  white  star. 

The  sun  goes  down :  the  heart  of  Spain  is  proud : 

303 


DRAKE 

Her  censers  fume,  her  golden  trumpets  blow! 
Into  the  darkening  East  with  cloud  on  cloud 

Of  broad-flung  sail  her  huge  sea-castles  go: 
Rich  under  blazoned  poops  like  rose-flushed  snow 

Tosses  the  foam.     Far  off  the  sunset  gleams: 
Her  banners  like  a  thousand  sunsets  glow, 

As  down  the  darkening  East  the  pageant  streams, 
Full-fraught    with    doom    for    England,    rigged    with 
princely  dreams. 

Nay,  "  rigged  with  curses  dark,"  as  o'er  the  waves 
Drake  watched  them  slowly  sweeping  into  the 

gloom 
That  thickened  down  the  Channel,  watched  them 

go 
In  ranks  compact,  roundels  impregnable, 

With  Biscay's  bristling,  broad-beamed  squadron 

drawn 

Behind  for  rear-guard.     As  the  sun  went  down 
Drake  flew  the  council-flag.     Across  the  sea 
That  gleamed  still  like  a  myriad-petalled  rose 
Up  to  the  little  Revenge  the  pinnaces  foamed. 
There,   on  Drake's  powder-grimed  escutcheoned 

poop 

304 


BOOK    XI 


They  gathered,  Admirals  and  great  flag-captains, 
Hawkins,  Frobisher,  shining  names  and  famous, 
And  some  content  to  serve  and  follow  and  fight 
Where  duty  called  unknown,  but  heroes  all. 
High  on  the  poop  they  clustered,  gazing  East 
With  faces  dark  as  iron  against  the  flame 
Of  sunset,  eagle-faces,  iron  lips, 
And  keen  eyes  fiercely  flashing  as  they  turned 
Like  sword-flames  now,  or  dark  and  deep  as  night 
Watching  the  vast  Armada  slowly  mix 
Its  broad-flung  sails  with  twilight  where  it  dragged 
Thro'   thickening  heavens   its   curdled  storm   of 

clouds 
Down  the  wide  darkening  Channel. 

"  My  Lord  Howard," 
Said  Drake,  "  it  seems  we  have  but  scarred  the 

skins 
Of  those  huge  hulks:  the  hour  grows  late  for 

England. 
'Twere  well  to  handle  them  again  at  once."     A 

growl 

Of  fierce  approval  answered;  but  Lord  Howard 
Cried  out,  "  Attack  we  cannot,  save  at  risk 

305 


DRAKE 


Of  our  whole  fleet.     It  is  not  death  I  fear, 
But  England's  peril.     We  have  fought  all  day, 
Accomplished    nothing!      Half    our    powder    is 

spent ! 

I  think  it  best  to  hang  upon  their  flanks 
Till  we  be  reinforced!" 

"  My  lord,"  said  Drake, 

"  Had  we  that  week  to  spare  for  which  I  prayed, 
And  were  we  handling  them  in  Spanish  seas, 
We  might  delay.     There  is  no  choosing  now. 
Yon  hulks  of  doom  are  steadfastly  resolved 
On  one  tremendous  path  and  solid  end — 
To  join  their  powers  with  Parma's  thirty  thousand 
(Not  heeding  our  light  horsemen  of  the  sea), 
Then  in  one  earthquake  of  o'erwhelming  arms 
Roll  Europe  over  England.     They've  not  grasped 
The  first  poor  thought  which  now  and  evermore 
Must  be  the  sceptre  of  Britain,  the  steel  trident 
Of  ocean  sovereignty.     That  mighty  fleet 
Invincible,  impregnable,  omnipotent, 
Must  here  and  now  be  shattered,  never  be  joined 
With  Parma,  never  abase  the  wind-swept  sea, 
With  oaken  roads  for  thundering  legions 
To  trample  in  the  splendour  of  the  sun 

306 


BOOK    XI 


From  Europe  to  our  island. 

As  for  food, 

In  yonder  enemy's  fleet  there  is  food  enough 
To  feed  a  nation;  ay,  and  powder  enough 
To  split  an  empire.     I  will  answer  for  it 
Ye  shall  not  lack  of  either,  nor  for  shot, 
Not  though  ye  pluck  them  out  of  your  own  beams 
To  feed  your  hungry  cannon.     Cast  your  bread 
Upon  the  waters.     Think  not  of  the  Queen ! 
She  will  not  send  it!     For  she  hath  not  known 
(How  could  she  know)   this  wide  new  realm  of 

hers, 
When   we    ourselves — her    seamen — scarce    have 

learnt 

What  means  this  kingdom  of  the  ocean  sea 
To  England  and  her  thrones-food,   life-blood, 

life! 

She  could  not  understand  who,  when  our  ships 
Put  out  from  Plymouth,  hardly  gave  them  store 
Of  powder  and  shot  to  last  three  fighting  days, 
Or  rations  even  for  those.     Blame  not  the  Queen, 
Who  hath  striven  for  England  as  no  king  hath 

fought 

Since  England  was  a  nation.     Bear  with  me, 

307 


DRAKE 

For  I  must  pour  my  heart  before  you  now 

This  one  last  time.  Yon  fishing-boats  have  brought 

Tidings  how  on  this  very  day  she  rode 

Before  her  mustered  pikes  at  Tilbury. 

Methinks  I  see  her  riding  down  their  lines 

High  on  her  milk-white  Barbary  charger,  hear 

Her   voice — *  My  people,   though   my   flesh   be 

woman, 

My  heart  is  of  your  kingly  lion's  breed: 
I  come  myself  to  lead  you ! '     I  see  the  sun 
Shining  upon  her  armour,  hear  the  voice 
Of  all  her  armies  roaring  like  one  sea — > 
God  save  Elizabeth,  our  English  Queen! 
*  God  save  her,'  I  say,  too;  but  still  she  dreams, 
As  all  too  many  of  us — bear  with  mel — dream, 
Of  Crecj,  when  our  England's  war  was  thus; 
When  we,  too,  hurled  our  hosts  across  the  deep 
As  now  Spain  dreams  to  hurl  them  on  our  isle. 
But  now  our  war  is  otherwise.     We  claim 
The  sea's  command,  and  Spain  shall  never  land 
One  swordsman  on  our  island.     Blame  her  not, 
But  look  not  to  the  Queen.     The  people  fight 
This  war  of  ours,  not  princes.     In  this  hour 

308 


BOOK    XI 


God  maketh  us  a  people.     We  have  seen 

Victories,  never  victory  like  to  this, 

When  in  our  England's  darkest  hour  of  need 

Her  seamen,  without  wage,  powder,  or  food, 

Are  yet  on  fire  to  fight  for  her.     Your  ships 

Tossing  in  the  great  sunset  of  an  Empire, 

Dawn  of  a  sovereign  people,  are  all  manned 

By  heroes,  ragged,  hungry,  who  will  die 

Like  flies  ere  long,  because  they  have  no  food 

But  turns  to  fever-breeding  carrion 

Not  fit  for  dogs.     They  are  half-naked,  hopeless 

Living,  of  any  reward;  and  if  they  die 

They  die  a  dog's  death.     We  shall  reap  the  fame 

While    they — great    God!    and    all    this    cannot 

quench 

The  glory  in  their  eyes.     They  will  be  served 
Six  at  a  mess  of  four,  eking  it  out 
With  what  their  own  rude  nets  may  catch  by  night, 
Silvering  the  guns  and  naked  arms  that  haul 
Under  the  stars  with  silver  past  all  price, 
While  some  small  ship-boy  in  the  black  crow's  nest 
Watches  across  the  waters  for  the  foe. 
My  lord,  it  is  a  terrible  thing  for  Spain 

309 


DRAKE 


When  poor  men  thus  go  out  against  her  princes ; 
For  so  God  whispers  c  Victory  '  in  our  ears, 
I  cannot  dare  to  doubt  it." 

Once  again 

A  growl  of  fierce  approval  answered  him, 
And  Hawkins  cried — "  I  stand  by  Francis  Drake" ; 
But  Howard,  clinging  to  his  old-world  order, 
Yet  with  such  manly  strength  as  dared  to  rank 
Drake's  wisdom  of  the  sea  above  his  own, 
Sturdily  shook  his  head.     "  I  dare  not  risk 
A  close  attack.     Once  grappled  we  are  doomed. 
We'll  follow  on  their  trail  no  less,  with  Drake 
Leading.     Our  oriflamme  to-night  shall  be 
His  cresset  and  stern-lanthorn.     Where  that  shines 
We  follow." 

Drake,  still  thinking  in  his  heart, — 
"  And  if  Spain  be  not  shattered  here  and  now 
We  are  doomed  no  less,"  must  even  rest  content 
With  that  good  vantage. 

As  the  sunset  died 

Over  the  darkling  emerald  seas  that  swelled 
Before  the  freshening  wind,  the  pinnaces  dashed 
To  their  own  ships;  and  into  the  mind  of  Drake 

310 


BOOK    XI 


There  stole  a  plot  that  twitched  his  lips  to  a  smile. 
High  on  the  heaving  purple  of  the  poop 
Under  the  glimmer  of  firm  and  full-blown  sails 
He  stood,  an  iron  statue,  glancing  back 
Anon  at  his  stern-cresset's  crimson  flare, 
The  star  of  all  the  shadowy  ships  that  plunged 
Like  ghosts  amid  the  grey  stream  of  his  wake, 
And  all  around  him  heard  the  low  keen  song 
Of  hidden  ropes  above  the  wail  and  creak 
Of  blocks  and  long  low  swish  of  cloven  foam, 
A  keen  rope-music  in  the  formless  night, 
A  harmony,  a  strong  intent  good  sound, 
Well-strung  and  taut,  singing  the  will  of  man. 
"  Your  oriflamme,"  he  muttered, — "  so  you  travail 
With  sea-speech  in  the  tongue  of  old  Poictiers — 
Shall  be  my  own  stern-lanthorn.     Watch  it  well, 
My  good  Lord  Howard." 

Over  the  surging  seas 

The  little  Revenge  went  swooping  on  the  trail, 
Leading  the  ships  of  England.     One  by  one 
Out  of  the  gloom  before  them  slowly  crept, 
Sinister  gleam  by  gleam,  like  blood-red  stars, 
The  rearmost  lanthorns  of  the  Spanish  Fleet, 


DRAKE 


A  shaggy  purple  sky  of  secret  storm 
Heaving  from  north  to  south  upon  the  black 
Breast  of  the  waters.     Once  again  with  lips 
Twitched  to  a  smile,  Drake  suddenly  bade  them 

crowd 

All  sail  upon  the  little  Revenge.     She  leapt 
Forward.     Smiling  he  watched  the  widening  gap 
Between  the  ships  that  followed  and  her  light, 
Then  as  to  those  behind,  its  flicker  must  seem 
Wellnigh  confused  with  those  of  Spain,  he  cried, 
"  Now,  master  bo'sun,  quench  their  oriflamme, 
Dip  their  damned  cresset  in  the  good  black  Sea ! 
The  rearmost  light  of  Spain  shall  lead  them  now, 
A  little  closer,  if  they  think  it  ours. 
Pray  God,  they  come  to  blows !  " 

Even  as  he  spake, 

His  cresset-flare  went  out  in  the  thick  night: 
A  fluttering  as  of  blind  bewildered  moths 
A  moment  seized  upon  the  shadowy  ships 
Behind  him,  then  with  crowded  sail  they  steered 
Straight  for  the  rearmost  cresset-flare  of  Spain. 


312 


BOOK    XII 

MEANWHILE,  as  in  the  gloom  he 
slipped  aside 
Along  the  Spanish  ranks,  waiting  the 

crash 

Of  battle,  suddenly  Drake  became  aware 
Of  strange  sails  bearing  up  into  the  wind 
Around  his  right,  and  thought,  "  the  Armada 

strives 

To  weather  us  in  the  dark."     Down  went  his  helm, 
And  all  alone  the  little  Revenge  gave  chase, 
Till  as  the  moon  crept  slowly  forth,  she  stood 
Beside  the  ghostly  ships,  only  to  see 
Bewildered  Flemish  merchantmen,  amazed 
With  fears  of  Armageddon — such  vast  shrouds 
Had  lately  passed  them  on  the  rolling  seas. 
Down  went  his  helm  again,  with  one  grim  curse 
Upon  the  chance  that  led  him  thus  astray; 
And  down  the  wind  the  little  Revenge  once  more 
Swept  on  the  trail.     Fainter  and  fainter  now 

313 


DRAKE 

Glared  the  red  beacons  on  the  British  coasts, 

And  the  wind  slackened  and  the  glimmering  East 

Greyed  and  reddened,  yet  Drake  had  not  regained 

Sight  of  the  ships.     When  the  full  glory  of  dawn 

Dazzled  the  sea,  he  found  himself  alone, 

With  one  huge  galleon  helplessly  drifting 

A  cable's-length  away.     Around  her  prow, 

Nuestra  Senora  del  Rosario, 

Richly  emblazoned,  gold  on  red,  proclaimed 

The  flagship  of  great  Valdes,  of  the  fleet 

Of  Andalusia,  captain-general.     She, 

Last  night,  in  dark  collision  with  the  hulks 

Of  Spain,  had  lost  her  foremast.     Through  the 

night 

Her  guns,  long  rank  on  deadly  rank,  had  kept 
All  enemies  at  bay.     Drake  summoned  her 
Instantly  to  surrender.     She  returned 
A  scornful  answer  from  the  glittering  poop 
Where  two-score  officers  crowned  the  golden  sea 
And  stained  the  dawn  with  blots  of  richer  colour 
Loftily  clustered  in  the  glowing  sky, 
Doubleted  with  cramoisy  velvet,  wreathed 
With  golden  chains,  blazing  with  jewelled  swords 


BOOK    XII 


And  crusted  poignards.     "  What  proud  haste  was 

this?" 

They  asked,  glancing  at  their  huge  tiers  of  cannon 
And  crowded  decks  of  swarthy  soldiery; 
"  What  madman  in  yon  cockle-shell  defied  Spain?  " 
"Tell  them  it  is  El  Draque,"  he  said,  "who 

lacks 

The  time  to  parley;  therefore  it  will  be  well 
They  strike  at  once,  for  I  am  in  great  haste." 
There,  at  the  sound  of  that  renowned  name, 
Without  a  word  down  came  their  blazoned  flag ! 
Like  a  great  fragment  of  the  dawn  it  lay 
Crumpled  upon  their  decks. 

Into  the  soft  bloom  and  Italian  blue 
Of  sparkling,  ever-beautiful  Torbay, 
Belted  as  with  warm  Mediterranean  crags, 
The  little  Revenge  foamed  with  her  mighty  prize, 
A  prize  indeed — not  for  the  casks  of  gold 
Drake  split  in  the  rich  sunlight  and  poured  out 
Like  dross  amongst  his  men,  but  in  her  hold 
Lay  many  tons  of  powder,  worth  their  weight 
In  rubies  now  to  Britain.     Into  the  hands 

3*5 


DRAKE 


Of  swarthy  Brixham  fishermen  he  gave 
Prisoners  and  prize,  then — loaded  stem  to  stern 
With  powder   and  shot — their  swiftest  trawlers 

flew 

Like  falcons  following  a  thunder-cloud 
Behind  him,  as  with  crowded  sail  he  rushed 
On  England's  trail  once  more.     Like  a  caged  lion 
Drake  paced  his  deck,  praying  he  yet  might  reach 
The  fight  in  time;  and  ever  the  warm  light  wind 
Slackened.     Not  till  the  sun  was  half-way  fallen 
Once  more  crept  out  in  front  those  dusky  thrones 
Of  thunder,  heaving  on  the  smooth  bright  sea 
From  North  to  South  with  Howard's  clustered 

fleet 

Like  tiny  clouds,  becalmed,  not  half  a  mile 
Behind  the  Spaniards.     For  the  breeze  had  failed 
Their  blind  midnight  pursuit;  and  now  attack 
Seemed  hopeless.     Even  as  Drake  drew  nigh,  the 

last 
Breath  of  the  wind  sank.     One  more  day  had 

flown, 

Nought  was  accomplished;  and  the  Armada  lay 
Some  leagues  of  golden  sea-way  nearer  now 

316 


BOOK    XII 


To  its  great  goal.     The  sun  went  down :  the  moon 
Rose  glittering.     Hardly  a  cannon-shot  apart 
The  two  fleets  lay  becalmed  upon  the  silver       _ 
Swell  of  the  smooth  night-tidej  The  hour  had 

come 

For  Spam  to  strike.     The  ships  of  England  drifted 
Helplessly,  at  the  mercy  of  those  great  hulks 
Oared  by  their  thousand  slaves. 

Onward  they  came, 

Swinging  suddenly  in  tremendous  gloom 
Over  the  silver  seas.     But  even  as  Drake, 
With  eyes  on  fire  at  last  for  his  last  fight, 
Measured  the  distance  ere  he  gave  the  word 
To  greet  it  with  his  cannon,  suddenly 
The  shining  face  of  the  deep  began  to  shiver 
With  dusky  patches:  the  doomed  English  sails 
Quivered  and,  filling  smart  from  the  Northeast, 
The  little  Revenge  rushed  down  their  broken  line 
Signalling  them  to  follow,  and  ere  they  knew 
What  miracle  had  saved  them,  they  all  sprang 
Their  luff  and  ran  large  out  to  sea.     For  now 
The  Armada  lay  to  windward,  and  to  fight 
Meant  to  be  grappled  and  overwhelmed;  but  dark 


DRAKE 


Within  the  mind  of  Drake,  a  fiercer  plan 
Already  had  shaped  itself. 

"  They  fly!     They  fly!  " 
Rending   the   heavens   from   twice   ten   thousand 

throats 

A  mighty  shout  rose  from  the  Spanish  Fleet. 
Over  the  moonlit  waves  their  galleons  came 
Towering,  crowding,  plunging  down  the  wind 
In  full  chase,  while  the  tempter,  Drake,  laughed 

low 

To  watch  their  solid  battle-order  break 
And  straggle.     When  once  more  the  golden  dawn 
Dazzled  the  deep,  the  labouring  galleons  lay 
Scattered  by  their  unequal  speed.     The  wind 
Veered  as  the  sun  rose.     Once  again  the  ships 
Of  England  lay  to  windward.     Down  swooped 

Drake 

Where  like  a  mountain  the  San  Marcos  heaved 
Her  giant  flanks  alone,  having  outsailed 
Her  huge  companions.    Then  the  sea-winds  blazed 
With  broadsides.     Two  long  hours  the  sea  flamed 

red 
All  round  her.     One  by  one  the  Titan  ships 

318 


X 


BOOK    XII 


Came  surging  to  her  rescue,  and  met  the  buffet 
Of  battle-thunders,  belching  iron  and  flame; 
Nor  could  they  pluck  her  forth  from  that  red  chaos 
Till  great  Oquendo  hurled  his  mighty  prows 
Crashing  athwart  those  thunders,  and  once  more 
Gathered  into  unshakeable  battle-order 
The  whole  Armada  raked  the  reeking  seas. 
Then  up  the  wind  the  ships  of  England  sheered 
Once  more,  and  one  more  day  drew  to  its  close, 
With  little  accomplished,  half  their  powder  spent, 
And  all  the  Armada  moving  as  of  old, 
From  sky  to  sky  one  heaven-wide  zone  of  storm 
(Though  some  three  galleons  out  of  all  their  host 
Laboured  woundily)  down  the  darkening  Channel. 
And  all  night  long  on  England's  guardian  heights 
The  beacons  reddened,  and  all  the  next  long  day 
The  impregnable  Armada  never  swerved 
From  its  tremendous  path.     In  vain  did  Drake, 
Frobisher,  Hawkins,  Howard,  greatest  names 
In  all  our  great  sea-history,  hover  and  dart 
Like  falcons  round  the  mountainous  array. 
Till  now,  as  night  fell  and  they  lay  abreast 
Of  the  Isle  of  Wight,  once  more  the  council  flag 

319 


DRAKE 

Flew  from  the  little  Revenge.     With  iron  face 
Thrust  close  to  Howard's,  and  outstretched  iron 

arm, 

Under  the  stars  Drake  pointed  down  the  coast 
Where  the  red  beacons  flared.     "  The  shoals,"  he 

hissed, 

1  The  shoals  from  Owers  to  Spithead  and  the  net 
Of  channels  yonder  in  Portsmouth  Roads.     At 

dawn 

They'll  lie  to  leeward  of  the  Invincible 
Fleet!" 

Swiftly,  in  mighty  sweeping  lines  Drake  set 
Before  the  council  his  fierce  battle-plan 
To  drive  the  Armada  down  upon  the  banks 
And  utterly  shatter  it — stroke  by  well-schemed 

stroke 

As  he  unfolded  there  his  vital  plot 
And  touched  their  dead  cold  warfare  into  life, 
Where  plan  before  was  none,  he  seemed  to  tower 
Above  them,  clad  with  the  deep  night  of  stars ; 
And  those  that  late  would  rival  knew  him  now, 
In  all  his  great  simplicity,  their  king, 
One  of  the  gods  of  battle,  England's  Drake, 

320 


BOOK    XII 


A  soul  that  summoned  Caesar  from  his  grave. 

And  swept  with  Alexander  o'er  the  deep.       / 

So  when  the  dawn  thro'  rolling  wreaths  of  cloud 
Struggled,  and  all  the  waves  were  molten  gold, 
The  heart  of  Spain  exulted,  for  she  saw 
The  little  fleet  of  England  cloven  in  twain 
As  if  by  some  strange  discord.     A  light  breeze 
Blew  from  the  ripening  East;  and,  up  against  it, 
Urged  by  the  very  madness  of  defeat, 
Or  so  it  seemed,  one  half  the  British  fleet 
Drew  nigh,  towed  by  their  boats,  to  challenge  the 

vast 

Tempest-winged  heaving  citadels  of  Spain, 
At  last  to  the  murderous  grapple;  while  far  away 
Their  other  half,  led  by  the  flag  of  Drake, 
Stood  out  to  sea,  as  if  to  escape  the  doom 
Of  that  sheer  madness,  for  the  light  wind  now 
Could  lend  them  no  such  wings  to  hover  and  swoop 
As  heretofore.     Nearer  the  mad  ships  came 
Towed  by  their  boats,  till  now  upon  their  right 
To  windward  loomed  the  Fleet  Invincible 
With  all  its  thunder-clouds,  and  on  their  left 
To  leeward,  gleamed  the  perilous  white  shoals 

321 


DRAKE 

With  their  long  level  lightnings  under  the  cliffs 
Of  England,  from  the  green  glad  garden  of 

Wight 
To  the  Owers  and  Selsea  Bill.     Right  on  they 

came, 

And  suddenly  the  wrench  of  thundering  cannon 
Shook  the  vast  hulks  that  towered  above  them. 

Red 

Flamed  the  blue  sea  between.    Thunder  to  thunder 
Answered,  and  still  the  ships  of  Drake  sped  out 
To  the  open  sea.     Sidonia  saw  them  go, 
Furrowing  the  deep  that  like  a  pale-blue  shield 
Lay  diamond-dazzled  now  in  the  full  light. 
Rich  was  the  omen  of  that  day  for  Spain, 
The  feast-day  of  Sidonia's  patron-saint ! 
And  the  priests  chanted  and  the  trumpets  blew 
Triumphantly!     A  universal  shout 
Went  skyward  from  the  locust-swarming  decks, 
A  shout  that  rent  the  golden  morning  clouds 
From  heaven  to  menacing  heaven,  as  castle  to 

castle 

Flew  the  great  battle-signal,  and  like  one  range 
Of  moving  mountains,  those  almighty  ranks 

322 


BOOK    XII 


Swept  down  upon  the  small  forsaken  ships ! 
The  lion's  brood  was  in  the  imperial  nets 
Of  Rome  at  last.     Onward  the  mountains  came 
With  all  their  golden  clouds  of  sail  and  flags 
Like  streaming  cataracts ;  all  their  glorious  chasms 
And  glittering  steeps,  echoing,  re-echoing, 
Calling,  answering,  as  with  the  herald  winds 
That  blow  the  golden  trumpets  of  the  morning 
From  Skiddaw  to  Helvellyn.     In  the  midst 
The  great  San  Mtrtin  surged  with  heaven-wide 

press 

Of  proudly  billowing  sail;  and  yet  once  more 
Slowly,  solemnly,  like  another  dawn 
Up  to  her  mast-head  soared  in  thunderous  gold 
The  sacred  standard  of  their  last  crusade; 
While  round  a  hundred  prows  that  heaved  thro' 

heaven 

Like  granite  cliffs,  their  black  wet  shining  flanks, 
And  swept  like  moving  promontories,  rolled 
The  splendid  long-drawn  thunders  of  the  foam, 
And  flashed  the  untamed  white  lightnings  of  the 

sea 

Back  to  a  morn  unhalyarded  of  man, 

323 


DRAKE 


Back  to  the  unleashed  sun  and  blazoned  clouds 
And  azure  sky — the  unfettered  flag  of  God. 

Like  one  huge  moving  coast-line  on  they  came 

Crashing,  and  closed  the  ships  of  England  round 
With  one  fierce  crescent  of  thunder  and  sweeping  flame, 

One   crimson    scythe    of    Death,    whose    long    sweep 

drowned 
The  eternal  ocean  with  its  mighty  sound, 

From  heaven  to  heaven,  one  roar,  one  glitter  of  doom, 
While  out  to  the  sea-line's  blue  remotest  bound 

The  ships  of  Drake  still  fled,  and  the  red  fume 
Of  battle  thickened  and   shrouded  shoal   and  sea  with 
gloom. 

The  distant  sea,  the  close  white  menacing  shoals 

Are  shrouded !    And  the  lion's  brood  fight  on ! 
And  now  death's  very  midnight  round  them  rolls; 

Rent  is  the  flag  that  late  so  proudly  shone: 
The  red  decks  reel,  and  their  last  hope  seems  gone! 

Round  them  they  still  keep  clear  one  ring  of  sea: 
It  narrows;  but  the  lion's  brood  fight  on, 

Ungrappled  still,  still  fearless  and  still  free, 
While  the  white  menacing  shoals  creep  slowly  out  to  lee. 


BOOK    XII 


Now  through  the  red  rents  of  each  fire-cleft  cloud, 

High  o'er  the  British  blood-greased  decks  flash  out 
Thousands  of  swarthy  faces,  crowd  on  crowd 

Surging,  with  one  tremendous  hurricane  shout 
On,  to  the  grapple!  and  still  the  grim  redoubt 

Of  the  oaken  bulwarks  rolls  them  back  again, 
As  buffeted  waves  that  shatter  in  the  furious  bout 

When  cannonading  cliffs  meet  the  full  main 
And    hurl    it   back,   in   smoke, — so    Britain   hurls   back 
Spain ; 

Hurls  her  back,  only  to  see  her  return, 

Darkening  the  heavens  with  billow  on  billow  of  sail: 
Round  that  huge  storm  the  waves  like  lava  burn, 

The  daylight  withers,  and  the  sea-winds  fail! 
Seamen  of  England,  what  shall  now  avail 

Your  naked  arms?     Before  those  blasts  of  doom 
The  sun  is  quenched,  the  very  sea- waves  quail: 

High  overhead  their  triumphing  thousands  loom, 
When  hark!  what  low  deep  guns  to  windward  suddenly 
boom? 

What  low  deep  strange  new  thunders  far  away 

Respond  to  the  triumphant  shout  of  Spain? 
Is  it  the  wind  that  shakes  their  giant  array? 

325 


DRAKE 


Is  it  the  deep  wrath  of  the  rising  main? 
Is  it — El  Draque  ?   El  Draque!     Ay,  shout  again, 

His  thunders  burst  upon  your  windward  flanks; 
The  shoals  creep  out  to  leeward!     Is  it  plain 

At  last,  what  earthquake  heaves  your  herded  ranks 
Huddled    in    huge    dismay   tow'rds   those   white    foam- 
swept  banks? 

- — -— 

Plain,  it  was  plain  at  last,  what  cunning  lured, 
What  courage  held  them  over  the  jaws  o'  the  pit, 
Till  Drake  could  hurl  them  down.    The  little  ships 
Of  Howard  and  Frobisher,  towed  by  their  boats, 
Slipped  away  in  the  smoke,  while  out  at  sea 
Drake,  with  a  gale  of  wind  behind  him,  crashed 
Volley  on  volley  into  the  helpless  rear 
Of  Spain  and  drove  it  down,  huddling  the  whole 
Invincible  Fleet  together  upon  the  verge 
Of  doom.     One  awful  surge  of  stormy  wrath 
Heaved  thro'  the  struggling  citadels  of  Spain. 
From  East  to  West  their  desperate  signal  flew, 
And  like  a  drove  of  bullocks,  with  the  foam 
Flecking   their   giant   sides,   they  staggered   and 
swerved, 

326 


BOOK    XII 


Careening  tow'rds  the  shallows  as  they  turned, 
Then  in  one  wild  stampede  of  sheer  dismay 
Rushed,  tacking  seaward,  while  the  grey  sea  plain 
Smoked  round  them,  and  the  cannonades  of  Drake 
Raked  their  wild  flight;  and  their  crusading  flag, 
Tangled  in  one  black  maze  of  crashing  spars, 
Whirled  downward  like  the  pride  of  Lucifer 
From  heaven  to  helL/ 

Out  tow'rds  the  coasts  of  France 
They   plunged,   narrowly   weathering   the   Ower 

banks ; 

Then,  once  again,  they  formed  in  ranks  compact, 
Roundels  impregnable,  wrathfully  bent  at  last 
Never  to  swerve  again  from  their  huge  path 
And  solid  end — to  join  with  Parma's  host, 
And  hurl  the  whole  of  Europe  on  our  isle. 
Another  day  was  gone,  much  powder  spent; 
And,  while  Lord  Howard  exulted  and  conferred 
Knighthoods  on  his  brave  seamen,  Drake  alone 
Knew  that  his  mighty  plan,  in  spite  of  all, 
Had  failed, — knew  that  wellnigh  his  last  great 

chance 

•Was  lost  of  wrecking  the  Spaniards  ere  they  joined 

327 


DRAKE 


Parma.     The  night  went  by,  and  the  next  day, 
With  scarce  a  visible  scar  the  Invincible  Fleet 
Drew  onward  tow'rds  its  goal,  unshakeable  now 
In  that  grim  battle-order.     Beacons  flared 
Along  the  British  coast,  and  pikes  flashed  out 
All  night,  and  a  strange  dread  began  to  grip 
The  heart  of  England,   as  it  seemed  the  might 
Of  seamen  most  renowned  in  all  the  world 
Checked  not  that  huge  advance.     Yet  at  the  heart 
Of  Spain  no  less  there  clung  a  vampire  fear 
And  strange  foreboding,  as  the  next  day  passed 
Quietly,  and  behind  her  all  day  long 
The  shadowy  ships  of  Drake  stood  on  her  trail 
Quietly,  patiently,  as  death  or  doom, 
Unswerving  and  implacable. 

While  the  sun 

Sanlc  thro'  long  crimson  fringes  on  that  eve, 
The  fleets  were  passing  Calais,  and  the  wind 
Blew  fair  behind  them.     A  strange  impulse  seized 
Spain  to  shake  off  those  bloodhounds  from  her 

trail, 

And  suddenly  the  whole  Invincible  Fleet 
[Anchored,  in  hope  the  following  wind  would  bear 

328 


BOOK    XII 


The  ships  of  England  past  and  carry  them  down 
To  leeward.     But  their  grim  insistent  watch 
Was  ready;  and  though  their  van  had  wellnigh 

crashed 

Into  the  rear  of  Spain,  in  the  golden  dusk, 
They,  too,  a  cannon-shot  away,  at  once 
Anchored,  to  windward  still. 

Quietly  heaved 

The  golden  sea  in  that  tremendous  hour 
Fraught  with  the  fate  of  Europe  and  mankind, 
As  yet  once  more  the  flag  of  council  flew, 
And  Hawkins,  Howard,  Frobisher,  and  Drake 
Gathered  together  upon  the  little  Revenge, 
While  like  a  triumphing  fire  the  news  was  borne 
To  Spain,  already,  that  the  Invincible  Fleet 
Had  reached  its  end,  ay,  and  "  that  great  black  dog 
Sir  Francis  Drake  "  was  writhing  now  in  chains 
Beneath  the  torturer's  hands. 

High  on  his  poop 

He  stood,  a  granite  rock,  above  the  throng 
Of  captains,  there  amid  the  breaking  waves 
Of  clashing  thought  and  swift  opinion, 
Silent,  gazing  where  now  the  cool  fresh  wind 

329 


DRAKE 


Blew  steadily  up  the  terrible  North  Sea 
Which  rolled  under  the  clouds  into  a  gloom 
Unfathomable.     Once  only  his  lips  moved 
Half-consciously,  breathing  those  mighty  words, 
The   clouds   His    chariot!     Then,    suddenly,   he 

turned 

And  looked  upon  the  little  flock  of  ships 
That  followed  on  the  fleet  of  England,  sloops 
Helpless  in  fight.     These,  manned  by  the  brave 

zeal 

Of  many  a  noble  house,  from  hour  to  hour 
Had  plunged  out  from  the  coast  to  join  his  flag. 
"  Better  if  they  had  brought  us  powder  and  food 
Than  sought  to  join  us  thus,"  he  had  growled;  but 

now 
"  Lord  God,"  he  cried  aloud,  "  they'll  light  our 

road 

To  victory  yet!  "     And  in  great  sweeping  strokes 
Once  more  he  drew  his  mighty  battle-plan 
Before  the  captains.     In  the  thickening  gloom 
They  stared  at  his  grim  face  as  at  a  man 
Risen  from  hell,  with  all  the  powers  of  hell 
At  his  command, — a  face  tempered  like  steel 

330 


BOOK    XII 


In  the  everlasting  furnaces,  a  rock 

Of  adamant,  while  with  a  voice  that  blent 

With  the  ebb  and  flow  of  the  everlasting  sea 

He  spake,  and  at  the  low  deep  menacing  words 

Monotonous  with  the  unconquerable 

Passion  and  level  strength  of  his  great  soul 

They  shuddered;  for  the  man  seemed  more  than 

man, 

And  from  his  iron  lips  resounded  doom 
As  from  the  lips  of  cannon — doom  to  Spain, 
Inevitable,  unconquerable  doom. 

And  through  that  mighty  host  of  Spain  there  crept 

Cold  winds  of  fear,  as  to  the  darkening  sky 
Once  more  from  lips  of  kneeling  thousands  swept 

The  vespers  of  an  Empire — one  vast  cry, 
SALVE  REGINA!    God,  what  wild  reply 

Hissed  from  the  clouds  in  that  dark  hour  of  dreams? 
AVE  MARIA,  those  about  to  die 

Salute   thee!      See,    what    ghostly   pageant   streams 
Above  them?     What  thin  hands  point  down  like  pale 
moonbeams? 

Thick  as  the  ghosts  that  Dante  saw  in  hell 

Whirled  on  the  blast  thro'  boundless  leagues  of  pain, 
331 


DRAKE 


Thick,  thick  as  wind-blown  leaves  innumerable, 
In  the  Inquisition's  yellow  robes  her  slain 

And  tortured  thousands,  dense  as  the  red  rain 
That  wellnigh  quenched  her  fires,  went  hissing  by 

With  twisted  shapes,  raw  from  the  racks  of  Spain, 
SALVE  REGINA! — rushing  thro'  the  sky, 

And  pale  hands  pointing  down  and  lips  that  mocked  her 
cry. 

Ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand! — what  are  these 

That  are  arrayed  in  yellow  robes  and  sweep 
Between  your  prayers  and  God  like  phantom  seas 

Prophesying  over  your  masts?     Could  Rome  not  keep 
The  keys?    Who  loosed  these  dead  to  break  your  sleep? 

SALVE  REGINA,  cry,  yea,  cry  aloud, 
AVE  MARIA!     Ye  have  sown:  shall  ye  not  reap? 

SALVE  REGINA!     Christ,  what  fiery  cloud 
Suddenly  rolls  to  windward,  high  o'er  mast  and  shroud? 

Are  hell-gates  burst  at  last?    For  the  black  deep 

To  windward  burns  with  streaming  crimson  fires! 
Over  the  wild  strange  waves,  they  shudder  and  creep 
Nearer — strange  smoke-wreathed  masts  and  spars,  red 
spires 

332 


BOOK    XII 


And   blazing  hulks,  vast  roaring  blood-red  pyres, 
Fierce  as  the  flames  ye  fed  with  flesh  of  men 

Amid  the  imperial  pomp  and  chanting  choirs 
Of  Alva — from  El  Draque's  red  hand  again 

Sweep  the  wild  fire-ships  down  upon  the  Fleet  of  Spain. 

Onward  before  the  freshening  wind  they  come 

Full  fraught  with  all  the  terrors,  all  the  bale 
That  flamed  so  long  for  the  delight  of  Rome, 

The  shrieking  fires  that  struck  the  sunlight  pale, 
The  avenging  fires  at  last!     Now  what  avail 

Your  thousand  ranks  of  cannon?    Swift,  cut  free, 
Cut  your  scorched  cables!     Cry,  reel  backward,  quail, 

Crash  your  huge  huddled  ranks  together,   flee! 
Behind  you  roars  the  fire,  before — the  dark  North  Sea! 

Dawn,  everlasting  and  omnipotent 
Dawn  rolled  in  crimson  o'er  the  spar-strewn  waves, 
As  the  last  trumpet  shall  in  thunder  roll 
O'er  heaven  and  earth  and  ocean.     Far  away, 
The  ships  of  Spain,  great  ragged  piles  of  gloom 
And  shaggy  splendour,  leaning  to  the  North 
Like  sun-shot  clouds  confused,  or  rent  apart 
In  scattered  squadrons,  furiously  plunged, 

333 


DRAKE 


Burying  their  mighty  prows  i'  the  broad  grey  rush 
Of  smoking  billowy  hills,  or  heaving  high 
Their  giant  bowsprits  to  the  wandering  heavens, 
Labouring  in  vain  to  return,  struggling  to  lock 
Their  far-flung  ranks  anew,  but  drifting  still 
To  leeward,  driven  by  the  ever-increasing  storm 
Straight  for  the  dark  North  Sea.     Hard  by  there 

lurched 

One  gorgeous  galleon  on  the  ravening  shoals, 
Feeding  the  white  maw  of  the  famished  waves 
With  gold  and  purple  webs  from  kingly  looms 
And  spilth  of  world-wide  empires.     Howard,  still 
Planning  to  pluck  the  Armada  plume  by  plume, 
Swooped  down  upon  that  prey  and  swiftly  engaged 
Her  desperate  guns ;  while  Drake,  our  ocean  king, 
Knowing  the  full  worth  of  that  doom-fraught  hour, 
Glanced  neither  to  the  left  nor  right,  but  stood 
High  on  his  poop,  with  calm  implacable  face 
Gazing  as  into  eternity,  and  steered 
The  crowded  glory  of  his  dawn-flushed  sails 
In  superb  onset,  straight  for  the  great  fleet 
Invincible;  and  after  him  the  main 
Of  England's  fleet,  knowing  its  captain  now, 

334 


BOOK    XII 


Followed,  and  with  them  rushed — from  sky  to  sky 
One  glittering  charge  of  wrath — the  storm's  white 

waves, 

The  twenty  thousand  foaming  chariots 
Of  God 

None  but  the  everlasting  voice 
Of  him  who  fought  at  Salamis  might  sing 
The  fight  of  that  dread  Sabbath.     Not  mankind 
Waged  it  alone.     War  waged  in  heaven  that  day, 
Where  Michael  and  his  angels  drave  once  more 
The  hosts  of  darkness  ruining  down  the  abyss 
Of  chaos.     Light  against  darkness,  Liberty 
Against  all  dark  old  despotism,  unsheathed 
The  sword  in  that  great  hour.     Behind  the  strife 
Of  men  embattled  deeps  beyond  all  thought 
Moved  in  their  awful  panoply,  as  move 
Silent,  invisible,  swift,  under  the  clash 
Of  waves  and  flash  of  foam,  huge  ocean  glooms 
And  vast  reserves  of  inappellable  power. 
The  bowsprits  ranked  on  either  fore-front  seemed 
But  spear-heads  of  those  dread  antagonists 
Invisible:  the  shuddering  sails  of  Spain 
Dusk  with  the  shadow  of  death,  the  sunward  sails 

335 


DRAKE 


Of  England  full-fraught  with  the  breath  of  God. 

Onward  the  ships  of  England  and  God's  waves 

Triumphantly  charged,  glittering  companions, 

And  poured  their  thunders  on  the  extreme  right 

Of  Spain,  whose  giant  galleons  as  they  lurched 

Heavily  to  the  roughening  sea  and  wind 

With  all  their  grinding,  wrenching  cannon,  worked 

On  rolling  platforms  by  the  helpless  hands 

Of  twenty  thousand  soldiers,  without  skill 

In  stormy  seas,  rent  the  indifferent  sky 

Or  tore  the  black  troughs  of  the  swirling  deep 

In  vain,  while  volley  on  volley  of  flame  and  iron 

Burst  thro'  their  four-foot  beams,  fierce  raking 

blasts 
From  ships  that  came  and  went  on  wings  of  the 

wind 

All  round  their  mangled  bulk,  scarce  a  pike's  thrust 
Away,  sweeping  their  decks  from  stem  to  stern 
(Between  the  rush  and  roar  of  the  great  green 

waves) 

With  crimson  death,  rending  their  timbered  towns 
And  populous  floating  streets  into  wild  squares 
Of  slaughter  and  devastation ;  driving  them  down, 

336 


BOOK    XII 


Huddled  on  their  own  centre,  cities  of  shame 
And  havoc,  in  fiery  forests  of  tangled  wrath, 
With  hurricanes  of  huge  masts  and  swarming  spars 
And  multitudinous  decks  that  heaved  and  sank 
Like  earthquake-smitten  palaces,  when  doom 
Comes,  with  one  stride,  across  the  pomp  of  kings. 
All  round  them  shouted  the  everlasting  sea, 
Burst  in  white  thunders  on  the  streaming  poops 
And  blinded  fifty  thousand  eyes  with  spray. 
Once,  as  a  gorgeous  galleon,  drenched  with  blood 
Began  to  founder  and  settle,  a  British  captain 
Called  from  his  bulwarks,  bidding  her  fierce  crew 
Surrender  and  come  aboard      Straight  through  the 

heart 

A  hundred  muskets  answered  that  appeal. 
Sink  or  destroy!     The  deadly  signal  flew 
From  mast  to  mast  of  England.     Once,  twice, 

thrice, 

A  huge  sea-castle  heaved  her  haggled  bulk 
Heavenward,  and  with  a  cry  that  rent  the  heavens 
From  all  her  crowded  decks,  and  one  deep  roar 
As  of  a  cloven  world  or  the  dark  surge 
Of  chaos  yawning,  sank :  the  swirling  slopes 

337 


DRAKE 


Of   the    sweeping    billowy    hills    for    a    moment 

swarmed 

With  struggling  insect-men,  sprinkling  the  foam 
With  tossing  arms;  then  the  indifferent  sea 
Rolled  its  grey  smoking  waves  across  the  place 
Where  they  had  been.    Here  a  great  galleasse 

poured 

Red  rivers  through  her  scuppers  and  torn  flanks, 
And  there  a  galleon,  wrapped  in  creeping  fire, 
Suddenly  like  a  vast  volcano  split 
Asunder,  and  o'er  the  vomiting  sulphurous  clouds 
And  spouting  spread  of  crimson,  flying  spars 
And  heads  torn  from  their  trunks  and  scattered 

limbs 

Leapt,  hideous  gouts  of  death,  against  the  glare. 
Hardly  the  thrust  of  a  pike  away,  the  ships 
Of  England  flashed  and  swerved,  till  in  one  mass 
Of    thunder-blasted    splendour    and    shuddering 

gloom 
Those    gorgeous    floating   citadels    huddled    and 

shrank 

Their  towers,  and  all  the  glory  of  dawn  that  rolled 
And  burned  along  the  tempest  of  their  banners 

338 


BOOK    XII 


Withered,  as  on  a  murderer's  face  the  light 
Withers  before  the  accuser.     All  their  proud 
Castles  and  towers  and  heaven-wide  clouds  of  sail 
Shrank  to  a  darkening  horror,  like  the  heart 
Of  Evil,  plucked  from  midnight's  fiercest  gloom, 
With  all  its  curses  quivering  and  alive; 
A  horror  of  wild  masts  and  tangled  spars, 
Like  some  great  kraken  with  a  thousand  arms 
Torn  from  the  filthiest  cavern  of  the  deep, 
Writhing,  and  spewing  forth  its  venomous  fumes 
On  every  side.     Sink  or  destroy! — all  day 
The  deadly  signal  flew;  and  ever  the  sea 
Swelled  higher,  and  the  flashes  of  the  foam 
Broadened  and  leapt  and  spread  as  the  wild 

white  fire 

That  flourishes  with  the  wind;  and  ever  the  storm 
Drave  the  grim  battle  onward  to  the  wild 
Menace  of  the  dark  North  Sea.     At  set  of  sun, 
Even  as  below  the  sea-line  the  broad  disc 
Sank  like  a  red-hot  cannon-ball  through  scurf 
Of  seething  molten  lead,  the  Santa  Maria 
Uttering  one  cry  that  split  the  heart  of  heaven 
Went  down  with  all  hands,  roaring  into  the  dark. 

339 


DRAKE 


Hardly  five  rounds  of  shot  were  left  to  Drake ! 
Gun  after  gun  fell  silent,  as  the  night 
Deepened — "  Yet  we  must  follow  them  to  the 

North/' 

He  cried,  "  or  they'll  return  yet  to  shake  hands 
With  Parma !     Come,  we'll  put  a  brag  upon  it, 
And  hunt  them  onward  as  we  lacked  for  nought!  " 
So,  when  across  the  swinging  smoking  seas, 
Grey  and  splendid  and  terrible  broke  the  day 
Once  more,  the  flying  Invincible  fleet  beheld 
Upon  their  weather-beam,  and  dogging  them 
Like  their  own  shadow,  the  dark  ships  of  Drake, 
Unswerving  and  implacable.     Ever  the  wind 
And  sea  increased;  till  now  the  heaving  deep 
Swelled  all  round  them  into  sulky  hills 
And  rolling  mountains,  whose  majestic  crests, 
Like  wild  white  flames  far  blown  and  savagely 

flickering, 
Swept  thro'  the  clouds;  and,  on  their  vanishing 

slopes, 

Past  the  pursuing  fleet  began  to  swirl 
Scores  of  horses  and  mules,  drowning  or  drowned, 
Cast  overboard  to  lighten  the  wild  flight 

340 


BOOK    XII 


Of  Spain,  and  save  her  water-casks,  a  trail 
Telling  of  utmost  fear.     And  ever  the  storm 
Roared  louder  across  the  leagues  of  rioting  sea, 
Driving  her  onward  like  a  mighty  stag 
Chased  by  the  wolves.     Off  the  dark  Firth  of 

Forth 

At  last,  Drake  signalled  and  lay  head  to  wind, 
Watching.     "  The  chariots  of  God  are  twenty 

thousand," 

He  muttered,  as,  for  a  moment  close  at  hand, 
Caught  in  some  league-wide  whirlpool  of  the  sea, 
The  mighty  galleons  crowded  and  towered  and 

plunged 

Above  him  on  the  huge  overhanging  billows, 
As  if  to  crash  down  on  his  decks;  the  next, 
A  mile  of  ravening  sea  had  swept  between 
Each  of  those  wind-whipt  straws  and  they  were 

gone, 

With  all  their  tiny  shrivelling  scrolls  of  sail, 
Through  roaring  deserts  of  embattled  death, 
Where  like  a  hundred  thousand  chariots  charged 
With  lightnings  and  with  thunders,  the  great  deep 
Hurled  them  away  to  the  North.     From  sky  to  sky 

34i 


DRAKE 


One  blanching  bursting  storm  of  infinite  seas 
Followed  them,  broad  white  cataracts,  hills  that 

grasped 

With  struggling  Titan  hands  at  reeling  heavens, 
And  roared  their  doom-fraught  greetings  from 

Cape  Wrath 
Round  to  the  Bloody  Foreland. 

There  should  the  yeast 
Of  foam  receive  the  purple  of  many  kings, 
And  the  grim  gulfs  devour  the  blood-bought  gold 
Of  Aztecs  and  of  Incas,  and  the  reefs, 
League  after  league,  bristle  with  mangled  spars, 
And  all  along  their  coast  the  murderous  kerns 
Of  Catholic  Ireland  strip  the  gorgeous  silks 
And  chains  and  jewel-encrusted  crucifixes 
From  thousands  dead,   and  slaughter  thousands 

more 

With  gallow-glass  axes  as  they  blindly  crept 
Forth  from  the  surf  and  jagged  rocks  to  seek 
Pity  of  their  own  creed. 

To  meet  that  doom 
Drake  watched  their  sails  go  shrivelling,  till  the 

last 

342 


BOOK    XII 


Flicker  of  spars  vanished  as  a  skeleton  leaf 
Upon  the  blasts  of  winter,  and  there  was  nought 
But  one  wide  wilderness  of  splendour  and  gloom 
Under  the  northern  clouds. 

"Not  unto  us," 

Cried  Drake,  "  not  unto  us — but  unto  Him 
Who  made  the  sea,  belongs  our  England  now ! 
Pray  God  that  heart  and  mind  and  soul  we  prove 
Worthy  among  the  nations  of  this  hour 
And  this  great  victory,  whose  ocean  fame 
Shall  wash  the  world  with  thunder  till  that  day 
When  there  is  no  more  sea,  and  the  strong  cliffs 
Pass  like  a  smoke,  and  the  last  peal  of  it 
Sounds  thro'  the  trumpet." 

So,  with  close-hauled  sails, 
Over  the  rolling  triumph  of  the  deep, 
Lifting  their  hearts  to  heaven,  they  turned  back 
home. 


THE  END 


343 


RETURN     CIRCULATION  DEPARTMENT  1386 
TO—  +»      202  Main  Library 

LOAN  PERIOD  1 
HOME  USE 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

Renewals  and  Recharges  may  be  made  4  days  prior  to  the  due  date. 
Books  may  be  Renewed  by  calling     642-3405. 


DUE  AS  STAMPED  BELOW 

FORM  NO.  DD6 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  BERKELEY 
BERKELEY,  CA  94720 


1 3  1959 


LD  21-100m-7,'39(402s) 


/'jo 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


